


What Tangled Webs We Weave

by NovaDorian



Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Also female Barry, De-Aged Barry Allen, De-Aged Cisco Ramon, De-Aged Iris West, F/M, Fluffy Crush, Genderbending, Just a bit of fun, Kinda OC Barry, Nerdiness, Swearing, references
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-08-25 16:18:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 49,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16664065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NovaDorian/pseuds/NovaDorian
Summary: Beatrice Allen has spent her whole life running away, from bullies, from her past, from her problems. It's time to stop. After an accident makes her the impossible, she decides that she's not running away anymore.Yeesh, I'm bad at summaries.Doesn't require familiarity with the TV show, quite a lot of the stuff from the show has been changed to fit the story. Features some characters from it, but doesn't really follow the TV show plot fully, just draws on episodes, focuses more on the Homecoming story with Beatrice along for the ride.





	1. Before the Thunder

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own anything, anything you recognise belongs to Marvel or CW. Just wrote this because the idea wouldn't stop bothering me. Usually I just write an idea until I lose interest, but somehow this became an actual thing.

_I was lightning before the thunder –_ Thunder by Imagine Dragons

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Peter!”

The sound of hurried footsteps echoed throughout the corridor, mingling with the frenzied chatter of Midtown’s student populous.

The boy in question paused in his task of piling books into his locker to turn towards the voice. His deep brown eyes swept the crowd curiously until he caught a glimpse of a flash of red weaving through the other teens. It was sort of like the velociraptors in the long grass scene in Jurassic Park, he mused to himself, he couldn’t see his friend just yet but he could pinpoint her position by exclamations of annoyance and people stumbling.

Peter smiled fondly to himself as he chuckled lowly in amusement, with his spider-given heightened senses he could hear her mumbled apologies as she made her way over to him. Beatrice was one of his closest friends along with Ned, and they had both become used to her rushing around due to being inevitably late for whatever she was supposed to be doing. The three had been thick as thieves since Beatrice had moved to Queens with her guardian Joe and his daughter Iris almost four years ago.

A lithe redheaded girl finally burst out of the swathes of people, pale complexion flushed in exertion and still jogging swiftly towards him. She tried to slide to a stop but found herself unfairly subject to the laws of momentum, she overbalanced as her converse squeaked loudly in protest against the tiles, arms wind-milling in an attempt to regain equilibrium. The taller brunet teen reached out a hand to steady her, and she grasped his bicep in an instinctual move to prevent herself falling. Her already pink cheeks flushed a dark red as she immediately pulled her hand back as if burned.

“Ah! Holy crap! Sorry, Peter. I’m all over the place today, didn’t mean to practically steam roll you,” she babbled hoping to prevent him from dwelling on her actions. She flashed him a sheepish smile, running a nervous hand through her hair.

The boy laughed brightly, “when are you not in a rush,” he teased. “You excited for tonight?” his eyes were shining in anticipation as he ducked his head down and scratched behind his ear, hoping the blush he could feel wasn’t too obvious.

The clear excitement in his expression quickly faded as he watched her face fall into a slightly guilty look as she bit her lip. “Actually, that’s what I came to talk to you about. I’m really sorry, but I won’t be able to make it.”

“What? But you’ve been looking forward to this for months, the particle accelerator could change the way we look at physics! I know we were just gonna watch it on TV, but we were going to have snacks…” he trailed off forlornly.

Beatrice could feel her chest ache as she took in his sad eyes, disappointing Peter felt like kicking a puppy. “I know, it’s lightyears ahead of anything they’re doing at CERN… and it’s not because I don’t want to, believe me I really wish I could. But there was a robbery this afternoon and the NYPD want to catch the guys before they can skip town, so Mr. Harari has asked me to pick up some of the slack and run some tests for him while he takes care of it.”

“Can’t they handle it? You’re only an intern, surely they have other staff?” Peter asked, incredulous.

The ginger teen shook her head, huffing in annoyance, “yeah, well the NYPD don’t fund their forensics department as well as they should, considering how much work they pile on it.” She rolled her eyes, before her tone softened again, “I know it won’t be the same, but you and Ned should come ‘round this weekend and we’ll do a Star Wars binge or something to make up for it?”

Peter’s expression lifted a little, but it was clear that the majority of his enthusiasm had been drained by her news, “Sure Triss, sounds like a plan, I’ll let Ned know.”

She hugged him briefly, grateful for his understanding, both their faces flushing at the contact. “Listen, I’ve gotta go, I need to get to the precinct in…” she paused as she fished her phone out of her pocket, vibrant blue eyes widening in alarm as she saw the time. “Now. Crap.” She took off running again, her path eased by the reduction in students who had now mostly left for the day, “bye, Pete!” she yelled over her shoulder, nearly hitting the wall as she rounded the corner far too fast.

Peter stared crestfallen at her retreating back, his good mood having taken an obvious nosedive. “Bye, Triss,” he mumbled to himself as he shut his locker and prepared for the lonely commute home.

\-------------------------------

Beatrice heaved a sigh as she glanced over the top of her computer screen to watch another monitor Mr. Harari had allowed her to use to catch up with the news on. He knew how excited she had been about Dr Wells switching on his particle accelerator, and had said that just this once she could watch the report covering it as a thank you for coming in on such short notice.

She loved her internship, it was hard work but interesting, and she enjoyed feeling like she was contributing towards keeping the city safe. Even if she only worked on the less gruesome cases. The redhead couldn’t help but feel like her heart wasn’t in it tonight however, she’d been looking forward to spending the evening with Peter. At least she was still able to watch the historic event unfold, regardless if it wasn’t quite like she’d hoped, if everything went well this could snowball other incredible scientific breakthroughs in the future.

Her thoughts lingered a little on Peter, and as always when she thought of him she could feel a rising warmth and her accelerated heartbeat. He and Ned had quickly taken up residence as her best friends since moving to Midtown, all three of them were nerds with a passion for science and they’d just clicked. She didn’t have many friends, she had never been the social butterfly type, not like Iris. Who she was now so close to that sister had really become the most appropriate word to describe their relationship.

The two girls had known each other since they’d been able to walk, they had begun as neighbours who had then started school together, and they had remained close even when their differing interests had pushed them in different directions. Iris and her father Joe were family. They had taken her in when her mother had died and her father had been, in her opinion, wrongfully imprisoned for her murder.

She had tried to explain the events of that horrific night to Joe, to the police, to anyone who would listen. But no one ever did. She remembered her mother screaming, wreathed in lightning in their living room, red hair whipping round her porcelain face as tears rolled down her cheeks. She never forgot the man in yellow that briefly appeared as the knife was plunged into Nora Allen’s chest, or the chill of fear his deep red eyes had given her. Beatrice would always recall that desperate ache she’d felt when she’d appeared in a rush of wind several blocks away, the numb horror as she ran home. Her Dad being dragged from the house as the front yard was swarmed with officers, and the way her chest burned as she struggled to breathe. They said she was troubled, traumatised by witnessing her mother’s murder, that her brain had filled in the blanks when her mind had suppressed the truth. She refused to listen, she knew what she saw and no one could convince her something that had felt that real had been a nightmare forced upon her by her own mind.

Eventually, she had learned not to talk about it, to pretend it upset her too much to recount the events. Though she had vowed that one day she’d find the explanation for what she saw, that promise was what had led her to this internship and her fervent desire to pursue forensics.

Joe had chosen to move their small family away from a neighbourhood that would only ever look at her with pity. Peter and Ned had been invaluable in helping her feel normal again after everything, though she had only ever confided in the former the true events of that night. Beatrice treasured the long hours the three would spend debating scientific theories, or how they might go about hypothetically constructing a working lightsaber.

In the last year or so, however, she had noticed that she had begun to feel differently about Peter than she did Ned. They were both equally important to her, but she never found herself almost breathless around Ned, never felt her heart speed up in her chest. Beatrice began blushing when he grinned at her, or smiling softly when he rambled passionately, gesturing wildly in his excitement.

It had been Iris that had first identified the crush as what it was, Beatrice had been relating an amusing incident that had happened with Peter earlier that day and Iris had begun smiling at her in a strangely knowing way. She’d trailed off mid anecdote as she’d noticed the expression on her sister’s face, she’d vehemently denied it at first when Iris joyfully informed her of her theory. Though Iris had not been deterred, and smugly informed the redhead that she was behaving exactly the same way she had when she’d developed her first ever crush on a sweet girl named Lana Lang. It didn’t take long for her to give in and admit to her new feelings, well to Iris anyway, she was still working on that bit with Peter.

As such she’d been particularly excited about watching the accelerator with him. It would have just been the two of them, Ned had a family thing he couldn’t get out of and Iris had pretended to fall asleep every time Beatrice had mentioned it. A part of her had hoped she’d work up the courage to be upfront with him, she doubted she would have managed it, but it was the thought that counted.

The teen was pulled out of her musings by the deep voice of Mr. Harari calling her from across the lab, where he was analysing some evidence from a murder case she wasn’t privy to. “Hey, Allen. Do me a favour and close the skylight would you, the rain’s getting in.”

Sure enough, a steady stream of water was swiftly forming a puddle in the middle of the concrete floor, another example of how much the rest of the precinct took the forensic department for granted. She had heard Harari complain about it being a safety hazard numerous times, yet it never seemed to be a priority to actually fix it. She  could hear him mumbling in frustration about budget cuts even now.

Beatrice pushed herself to her feet and made her way between the shelves of chemical storage to the chain mechanism used to winch the sliding cover shut, grasping it with both hands in preparation to pull.

She never got the chance.

Suddenly, the lab flickered into darkness and the sound of Harari’s chair clattering backwards to the floor echoed through the dim room. They both stood in silence, confused by the sudden power outage. Seconds later their surroundings were thrown into sharp relief as in the distance a blinding torrent of light shot upwards, piercing the slate grey clouds that hung oppressively above the city. The floor trembled slightly as an ominous rumble reached them, heralding the visible shockwave that surged across the city from the epicentre of the explosion. Beatrice clung tighter to the chain in fear, she was sure that the site of the disaster was where the particle accelerator was.

“What the shit?” Harari breathed, his language a testament to his distress. He usually endeavoured to be as professional as possible around her, he’d never sworn in front of her in all the months she’d known him.

The teen was stunned, pale eyes blown wide and transfixed on the spot even as the light faded, mouth slightly agape. Goosebumps crawled along her pale arms as the air seemed to fill with a strange static that prickled against her skin. The sound of rattling glass began to fill the air, gaining in volume as the heavy metal shelves also began to shake. Chemicals began to float around in their containers, defying gravity, and she couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from the baffling sight.

Beatrice barely had time to do anything but release a startled gasp as a loud crash came from above her, punctuated by the feeling of glass cutting into her exposed flesh.

A bright light filled her vision and agony coursed through her veins, a thousand knives slicing deep into her bones. Her insides _burned._ The pain was so intense that she hardly felt herself sail through the air, or the impact when her back struck the metal shelves knocking a plethora of dangerous substances onto her prone form.

The pain became too overwhelming and she felt the world slip away from her, unaware of the panicked shouts of Harari and the flicker of electricity beneath her skin.

\---------------------------------

Peter sat on his bed, propped up by a mountain of pillows and flicking through one of his chemistry textbooks. Not that he was really reading it, he had tried honestly, but his mind kept wandering back to his closest female friend. Well, only female friend really.

He’d had such high hopes for the day, unfortunately he had been sorely disappointed. Ned had been pestering him for a week that the evening would be the perfect opportunity to confess his feelings to the newest addition to their longstanding duo. He wasn’t entirely convinced he would have been able to do it, after all he had pined after her for two years already without doing so.

It was all academic now however, Beatrice’s internship had derailed their plans and the scientific event of the year had turned out to be a complete let down as well. The particle accelerator hadn’t just failed, it had gone up in a catastrophic explosion that had taken a large portion of the cities power with it. His and Aunt May’s Queens apartment had been plunged into darkness for several hours, and they’d only gotten back on the grid less than an hour ago.

Beatrice was going to be so disappointed, he knew he was, they’d thought this was going to be a scientific event almost on par with Tony Stark’s incredible strides in clean energy.

He heard the distant sound of a phone ringing and tried to tune out the indistinct sound of his Aunt replying to whoever had rung. Peter heard a hasty knock at his door a few minutes later, he glanced up as he invited her in, surprised and alarmed at the pale, reluctant expression on her face. Her dark eyes were sad as she moved further into the room, perching gently next to him on the bed and settling a warm hand on his knee. A gesture of support, though he didn’t know why he needed it.

“Honey…” she began, voice soft and slightly hesitant. “there’s no easy way to say this, so I’m just going to go for it. There’s-, well, there’s been an accident at the precinct Beatrice interns at-.”

Peter felt the blood drain from his face as a cold weight settled in the pit of his stomach, panic gripping him in icy fingers. “Is she ok? Where is she? Was she hurt? What hap-?”

May gripped his face in her hands gently trying to get him to focus on her, “Peter! Listen to me. I am going to tell you, but you’ve got to stop freaking out, ok?” she paused and drew in a deep breath, as if she was summoning the strength to tell him knowing how much this would upset him. “I don’t know a lot about her condition right now, Joe wasn’t in a good place to tell me much, he’s at the hospital right now. She was injured pretty badly, but she’s getting the best treatment she possibly can.”

The teen felt like all the air had been ripped from his lungs and his vision blurred with tears, chest tight as he struggled to come to terms with the situation.

“But- but, she’s going to be ok, right? She has to be ok. She can’t-.” His breath hitched, and May reached down to steady his shaking hands with her own.

“Honey, I know this is difficult, but she’s in really good hands and they’re going to do their best for her.” She assured. “I’m going to need you to be brave for me. We’re going to go to the hospital, but I don’t think you’re going to be able to see her tonight. I need to help out Joe, so Iris is going to be coming to stay with us for a few days.” She watched as her nephew looked about to object and forged on before he could do so. “I know you want to see her Pete, but she’s not in a good way. Once sh-.”

“Please Aunt May, I won’t get in the way I promise! I just wan-“

“No,” she cut in sternly, “once she’s more stable I think Joe would be happy for you to visit, but right now it’s just not feasible.”

The brown eyed boy drew in a shaky breath as he swallowed any further protests, clenching his jaw as he mentally reprimanded himself, ‘ _come on Parker get it together’_. “I-I-, ok, I’ll stay with Iris, Aunt May. You’ll tell me as soon as you know more though, right?”

The dark-haired women gave him a small sad smile, eyes soft with gratitude, “yes, honey. Of course I will, now grab your jacket, we need to get going.” Despite her words she pulled him towards her, engulfing him in a maternal embrace. He buried his head in the crook of her shoulder seeking comfort before they had to face harsh reality.

\----------------------------

Three weeks had passed since the terrible explosion that was still making headlines across New York. The incident had left a truly shocking number of casualties in its wake, and Harrison Wells now sat amongst the tattered remains of his creation and his reputation, a pariah, and a victim of his own hubris.

Peter thought these past few weeks may have been the longest in his relatively short life, anxiously waiting for any update about Beatrice’s condition. Ned had been devastated at the news and often texted Peter for information, he’d visited once or twice but was reluctant to intrude too much on what was a very difficult time for the Wests. The hospital had pronounced her relatively stable, but for several hours after she’d first been admitted it had really been touch and go.

The longer Peter spent at the hospital the more he started to abhor the place, the overwhelming smell of sterility was incredibly unpleasant due to his heightened senses and he was sure his new-found hatred was probably going to stick with him for the rest of his life. Almost as oppressive as the heady scent of chemicals was the silence. None of them were really in the mood to attempt small talk as Beatrice still remained unresponsive.

He’d never seen her look so frail, she was usually so vivacious, always moving and joking. Laughing joyously or ranting passionately, he even missed that angry frown she did just before she was about to give someone a piece of her mind. Hands on hips and practically glowing with rage. She was always so full of life that the sight of her small frame dwarfed by her hospital bed almost seemed to mock him. Dark circles had made their home beneath her closed eyes, which along with her bright red hair only served to highlight just how unnaturally pale she was.

It was the second time that the teen had ever felt so damn helpless since acquiring his powers, the other time being when he’d lost Uncle Ben. He didn’t know if he could cope with losing another person so soon, or ever really. Beatrice had been one of his main supports when he’d been trying to stay strong for Aunt May. Ned had been a great help too, but Beatrice really understood what it was like to lose one of the people who had raised you in frankly awful circumstances.

He had been too young to truly understand what he’d lost when his parents had died, but he knew he’d always vividly recall desperately clinging to Uncle Ben’s lifeless body. Hands dyed red as he tried to stem the blood flow from the bullet wound, as if he could somehow hold the life in his body despite knowing it was far, far too late. He’d always feel partially responsible. He should have done more, shouldn’t have stormed out of the apartment, forcing Uncle Ben to follow him. Aunt May had earnestly assured him that she didn’t blame him, it wasn’t his fault. There would always be a small part of him that couldn’t bring himself to believe her.

Since that day he’d tried his hardest to use his powers to help others, to stop the bad things from happening to those who least deserved it. So no one had to feel the same pain he did.

However, moments like this brought home to him that no super strength, incredible agility or wall scaling could help his injured friend. Despite his incredible abilities, he was useless where it counted, and that killed him.

The quiet complaint of the doors hinges cut through the silence as May returned from her usual hot drinks run. She set the cardboard tray of cups down on one of the surfaces preparing to hand out hot chocolate and coffee to their respective drinkers when a high-pitched screech filled the room.

Peter was so used to the steady beat of the EKG monitoring Beatrice’s heart rate that the sound had all but faded from his comprehension, until it had suddenly increased to such a pace that it had become one extended whine. The noise preluded the first movement he’d seen Beatrice make since she’d fallen into a coma, but it wasn’t the movement they’d been hoping and praying for.

Her body lurched and seized, convulsing in place. Joe was immediately running to the door shouting for help, yelling at the top of his lungs to grab the attention of the nearest staff members. Peter and Iris had both moved forward on autopilot, as if trying to offer the redhead help that neither of them were capable of rendering. May pulled the both of them back to make room for the Doctors who were swarming into the dingy hospital room, she tried to guide them out of the door and Peter followed numbly blinking back tears. Iris was another matter, she was screaming and struggling against the older woman, tears streaming down her face as she called Beatrice’s name.

The door to the room fell shut, the confused shouts of the medical staff now muffled. Iris jogged away from them trying to hold in her panicked sobs. A part of him felt like he should go back, like he should be doing something, anything. May had told him that though she was mostly stable, her condition had very rarely relapsed, but he had never actually witnessed it.

He didn’t know if he’d ever be able to erase the mental image of her straining and struggling, as her limbs periodically seized.

The sight had shaken him so much that he never noticed the wheelchair bound figure of Dr Wells approaching Beatrice’s guardian, Joe. The man was now stood in the corridor, staring fearfully at his young ward, expression dark with worry.


	2. Learning to Walk Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I don't own anything. Just writing for fun.

_Learning to walk again  
_ _I believe I've waited long enough_  
Where do I begin?   
\- Walk by Foo Fighters

_____________________________________

 

“Cisco, what are you doing?” the stern voice of a tall willowy ginger woman, with soft brown eyes echoed throughout the lab, looking on in wary confusion.

A slightly chubby sixteen-year-old grinned at her goofily from where he was sat at the foot of the hospital bed of a younger redhead. His dark hair danced around his shoulders as he happily bobbed along to the distinctive voice of Lady Gaga singing Pokerface. He gestured towards their patient with a half chewed red-vine, “she likes this song.”

The woman scoffed, “how could you possibly know that?”

Cisco answered while still watching the unconscious girl intensely for any response, “I checked her Facebook page. I mean, she can hear everything, right?”

The older woman’s expression was equal parts sceptical and thoughtful as she considered that notion, “well… auditory functions are the last sensory faculties to degenerate.” She didn’t sound particularly convinced, but appeared to ultimately decided that there was no harm in trying.

The easy-going teen shrugged, stood up and navigated the length of the lab towards a long desk covered in monitors using a rather uncoordinated dance. He absentmindedly sung along to the music, “can’t read my, can’t read my, can’t read my poker-“

An abrupt gasp cut off what was sure to have been a spectacular rendition of the pop song, as the previously unresponsive patient lurched into a seated position, eyes darting around the lab wildly.

“Oooh, my god!” Cisco exclaimed, reeling back in shock, he grabbed a communication device off the edge of the desk speaking into it urgently. “Doctor Wells, get down to the cortex, like, right now.” He dropped the object back onto the table before darting across the lab again to help Caitlin, who was already shining a light in the teen girl’s eyes and mumbling statistics about her reactions.

Beatrice struggled to calm down, finding the onslaught of sudden stimuli very disorienting. Her eyes ached due to the bright lights and she blinked fiercely to try and relieve the feeling. She tried to ignore the babbling woman as she focused on bringing her laboured breathing under control, she really didn’t want to reach hyperventilation territory.

A warm hand gently settled on her shoulder and she glanced up to find a friendly looking boy a little older than her gazing down at her kindly. “Hey, hey, hey. Whoa! Relax. Everything’s okay dude. You’re at S.T.A.R. Labs.” His measured tone and calm demeanour succeeded in calming her down a little.

“S.T.A.R. Labs?” Beatrice asked still feeling a little out of it, her voice husky from disuse. “Who are you?”

“I’m Cisco Ramone, she’s Caitlin,” he paused, dark eyes darting skyward as if he was trying to recall something important. “I mean, Doctor Snow.” He gestured at the ginger woman beside him.

The aforementioned Doctor tactlessly cut in. “I need you to urinate in this,” she demanded holding up a small plastic pot.

Cisco rolled his eyes, pulling the pot out of her hand. “Not now,” he reprimanded in exasperation, “not this second.”  He placed the container on a nearby table.

The young redhead was incredibly overwhelmed, “wha-wha-what is happening? What is going on?” she asked voice increasing in pitch due to her panic. She pushed past the two strangers who were very much in her personal space, scrambling out of bed so she could put some distance between them. She really wished Joe was here.

“You were struck by lightning dude!” Beatrice raised an eyebrow at Cisco, clearly taken aback by his jubilant tone. That didn’t sound like the kind of news you told someone with an expression that said he clearly thought Christmas had come early.

She whirled around turning her back to them, trying to plan out a coherent sentence to refute his words. Her trail of thought was lost as she caught sight of her midriff on one of the monitors they had used to keep an eye on her previously comatose self. She stared blankly for a moment, blue eyes blinking in bewilderment. “Lightning gave me… abs?” she questioned weakly, vaguely wondering if this was some kind of fever dream.

Caitlin darted into her eyeline heels clicking against the tiled floor. “Your muscles should be atrophying, but instead they’re in a chronic and unexplained state of cellular regeneration,” she explained sounding like she didn’t quite believe it, but was filled with scientific curiosity at the phenomenon.

Cisco took over the next part of the explanation, deciding that Caitlin was not at all comforting when in full scientist mode. He steered Beatrice to a low stool so she could sit down while he gave her the information she needed. He nervously tucked some of his raven locks behind his air as he mentally prepared himself. “You were in a coma.”

“For how long?” she asked timidly, almost afraid of the answer. What had she missed? Were her friends ok? What if it’d been years and everyone had moved on, she’d seen that in a TV show once. Her mental spiral was effectively interrupted as someone new entered the room.

“Five months” a male voice clearly enunciated. She turned in her seat eyes widening a little in shock, she immediately recognised the face of one of her idols, Doctor Wells, the wheelchair however, was new. She made an effort not to linger on it for long, which wasn’t difficult as she was still reeling from his bombshell. His response had incited in her two distinct emotional reactions, she was partially relieved because the pessimistic part of her worried it had been far longer than that, but she was also horrified. Five months was not an insignificant amount of time. He looked at her calculatingly, pale eyes sharp with cunning and intelligence, “welcome back Ms. Allen. We have a lot to discuss.”

It wasn’t long before she found herself walking sedately alongside Doctor Wells as he steered his wheelchair through the long halls of S.T.A.R. Labs. Her fingers fumbled nervously with the cuffs of the black sweatshirt they’d lent her, the bright white logo of the institution emblazoned across the front. The combined impact of having lost so much time and being face to face with a man she’d idolised was throwing her off kilter. She worried her lower lip between her teeth as she wondered when she’d be able to get out of here. She felt fine, in fact, she felt oddly energetic for someone who had been bed bound for almost half a year.

The silence was making her even more antsy, so she decided to finally break it. “I just can’t believe I’m here, I’ve always wanted to meet you?”

Wells cast a slightly amused look up at her. “Yes, well. You certainly went to great lengths to do it. S.T.A.R. Labs,” he began grandly, gesturing around him, “has not been operational since F.E.M.A categorised us a class four hazardous location. Seventeen people died that night and many more were injured. Myself among them.” he said, referring to his partially paralysed state.

The pair approached a glass barrier at the end of the hallway as the room opened out into a large space with a domed glass roof. She glanced over the edge taking in the charred and twisted remains of part of the accelerator, a physical testament to the catastrophic events that had brought her here today.

“Jeez,” Beatrice breathed, “what happened to it?”

“Five months ago, the particle accelerator went online exactly as planned. For forty-five minutes I had achieved my life’s dream, and then, then there was an anomaly. The electron volts became unmeasurable, the ring under us popped.” His gaze was distant, like he was watching the events unfold in front of him again. “Energy from that detonation was thrown into the sky… and that, in turn, seeded a storm cloud- “

“That created a lightning bolt that hit me,” Beatrice finished, practically whispering as everything fell into place.

“That’s right.” The raven-haired man watched her as her jaw tensed, a physical indication of her distress as she tried to process everything. “I was _recovering_ myself… when I heard about you. The hospital was undergoing unexplainable power outages every time you were going into cardiac arrest. Which was actually a misdiagnosis. Because, you see, you weren’t flatlining, Beatrice. Your heartbeat was moving too fast for the EKG to register it.”

Wells gestured for them to move on, continuing to talk as they made their way back to the cortex. “Now, I’m not the most popular person in town these days,” he said wryly, “but Detective West gave me permission to bring you here where we were able to properly stabilise you.”

“Joe?” Beatrice asked, despite already knowing the answer.

“Yes, he and his daughter have been regulars here ever since he allowed your transfer. Along with two young boys, Ned and Peter, though the latter’s visits were… rather more frequent.” He concluded with a smirk, slightly amused.

Beatrice suppressed a pleased smile. Caitlin wandered over to them as they entered the room she’d woken up in, “they all talk a _lot_ , well, except for Detective West.”

“Yeah, but Iris is hot,” Cisco volunteered what he clearly thought was relevant information, grinning cheekily between sips of an alarmingly orange drink.

Talking about her family and friends had re-awoken her desire to see them, the gravity of the situation was really hitting her now and all she wanted to see was some familiar faces. “I- um, can you call Joe? I think I need to go home. I feel fine, honestly.” She assured the group, looking beseechingly at Doctor Wells deeming him the figure of authority amongst them.

Caitlin looked horrified, “no, you can’t! Now you’re awake we need to run tests, there’s so much we don’t know- “

The older man held up a hand, instantly halting her frantic spiel. “Hold on Caitlin, I think you’ve established that Ms. Allen is currently in a stable condition and fully functional. I think we’ve kept her long enough, I will contact Detective West so that she may go home.” The ginger woman looked like she was about to object, but she was given no time to vocalise her protests. “However, we would like you to return at some point in the next few days for further tests to make sure you are as healthy as you seem. I would also advise you that if you experience anything… peculiar… you let us know immediately.”

Beatrice’s pale face lit up with a beaming grin. There was only so much she would be able to deal with today, and being prodded and poked by needles by a well-meaning but overbearing doctor was not amongst them.

___________________________

 

It hadn’t taken long for Joe to come pick her up from the lab, bringing Iris with him so she could also be there for the tearful reunion. Beatrice was so elated to see them that she barely gave any further thought to her miraculous recovery, or the jittery energy she had that made her bounce from foot to foot.

They had left the lab around mid-morning and it had taken her all afternoon to convince Joe she was perfectly capable of the small commute to Peter’s apartment to surprise him. He had initially offered to drop her off, but he’d been called back into work for an urgent case, she’d insisted that after five months unconscious she was perfectly content to enjoy walking around.

A little over twenty minutes later she found herself stood at the threshold to his apartment, lifting a slightly shaky hand to knock. She rocked in place a little impatiently as she waited eagerly for someone to answer the door. Joe had rung May ahead of time to give her a heads up that Beatrice was no longer taking an extended nap.

She didn’t have to wait long, the door swung open and she was immediately pulled into a motherly embrace by her friend’s Aunt. “Oh, Beatrice! We were so worried. Thank goodness, you’re ok, can I get you anything? Do you need to sit? A drink? Something to eat? I think I have some walnut loaf left.” She held the girl at arm’s length, surveying her for injury as she peppered her with questions. Sometimes it was easy to see where Peter had picked up his habit of rambling.

The teen shot her an enthusiastic grin as she bounced up and down. “I’m fine May! Better than fine actually, excited to be awake. No worries, Joe plied me with plenty of food any- “

“Triss!” came a surprised exclamation from further in the apartment. Beatrice glanced past Aunt May as she lowered her arms, taking in the wide-eyed face of Peter Parker. Her heartbeat picked up as bright blue met deep brown. Before she could so much as articulate a greeting Peter threw himself across the room wrapping his arms around her, using his height advantage to lift her off her feet in an exuberant hug. He let out an elated laugh as he happily spun her, eliciting a startled squeak from Beatrice as she clung to his shoulders.

May smiled fondly at the pair as she busied herself in the kitchen, intent on giving them some semblance of privacy.

His thoughts began to catch up with him and he set her gently back on the ground, both teens now flushed an interesting shade of pink.

“You’re awake,” he gasped, hardly able to believe it despite the physical proof in front of him.

She smiled brightly at him, feeling a little more emotional than she’d expected. “I woke up today, this morning. Iris and Joe have been fussing over me all day.”

“But…how? Should you even be on your feet?” his smile dimmed, he suddenly looked very worried that she was going to keel over at any moment.

“Peter, I’m okay.”

Any sign of happiness completely melted off his face, his eyebrows drawing together in concern, her chest ached seeing him look so vulnerable. “I watched you die, Beatrice. You- your, your heart stopped. I- how?”

A deep sadness filled her, and she welled up at the thought of what she’d put him through. She had been blessedly unconscious for the most of it, but he had lived with the worry and uncertainty for months.

The redhead reached down to grab one of his hands in her smaller ones, pressing it against her chest above the spot where her heart was. “See, Pete, it’s still beating,” she assured him warmly.

Beatrice watched as he began to look thoughtful, “it feels really fast,” he breathed in wonder.

The moment was broken by a startled yelp from her left. May had apparently been unable to completely resist mothering her, and had put together some drinks for them while making herself scarce. The tray, however, had been awkwardly balanced and as the older woman caught her foot on the edge of the rug she had lost her grip on it.

Beatrice watched mesmerised as it began to tilt forward, in slow motion the drinks slid across the tray moving precariously towards the edge. It was an extremely disconcerting sensation, feeling like you were existing at a normal speed while everything else moved at a fraction of the pace.

Fortunately, Peter appeared to be far more on the ball than her. The brunet teen swiftly reached forward, taking hold of the tray before it could completely tip over, the drinks sloshed precariously in their glasses.

“Oooh! Good catch, honey. That could have been a real mess,” May enthused gratefully.

Peter shuffled awkwardly ducking his head and scratching behind his ear. “Erm, yeah. No problem, Aunt May. I think all that dodgeball is finally paying off,” he tried to joke, but sounded strangely wooden.

Beatrice might have questioned this weird behaviour in any other situation, but she was far too preoccupied trying to convince herself that her brain was playing tricks on her. Maybe, the huge information dump of a day had over-taxed her brain.

She forcibly shook her head to dismiss any further thoughts, hopefully it was just a side effect of being unconscious for so long.

The redhead half-heartedly smiled at the Parkers, nudging Peter teasingly. “Well, it’s about time all those obligatory gym classes were useful for something, since they’re certainly not any fun. Especially dodgeball.”

Her friend laughed genuinely in response, pleased no one was going to question his unusually quick reflexes.

Pushing her concerns to the back of her mind she focused on enjoying time with Peter and his aunt, refusing to dwell on anything other than catching up with him for a few hours before she had to head home.

\-----------------------

 

A few days later Beatrice was wandering home after an afternoon of watching Indiana Jones with Ned and Peter. She was relieved that it would still be a few months before school started up again, so she had plenty of time to catch up on what she’d missed. She dreaded to think how unbelievably stressful it would’ve been to have to keep up with classes straight away, especially when she had a backlog work already, thankfully Peter had offered to get her up to speed.

The test session at S.T.A.R. Labs yesterday had been… unpleasant. She’d never been much of a fan of needles, and Caitlin had told her to expect her arm to be slightly sore from their sample taking. Weirdly, after they’d left she hadn’t been able to find any sign they’d done anything at all.

It was another strange event she’d have to add to her list since waking up, it was beginning to reach a point where she couldn’t keep chalking it up to coma induced hallucinations. There had been a few more moments where the world seemed to move in slow motion, and one particularly confusing incident when she’d gotten up to brush her teeth and found herself at the sink with no recollection of walking there.

To be quite honest, it was really starting to scare her. She wondered if her hardcore nap had resulted in her acquisition of a one-way ticket to crazy town. Beatrice had considered several times if any of this came under what Doctor Wells had termed ‘peculiar’. The answer was probably yes, but she hadn’t been able to bring herself to say anything about it, they were already too curious about how hyperactive she’d become. She feared that if she indulged any more, she’d find herself quickly shipped off to some high-level government testing facility. Lab rat wasn’t one of her career goals thank you very much.

Cisco had offered her his number after they had bonded over a mutual love of all things ‘nerdy’, he had also semi-seriously suggested she pass it along to Iris. Beatrice hoped that if all the crazy that was happening to her at the moment escalated, she could count on him to be discreet. Admittedly, his trusting and bubbly personality didn’t really scream that, but he seemed like someone who wouldn’t intentionally sell her out. Also, he was the only one of the three at S.T.A.R. Labs that she really felt she could trust with it. Something about Doctor Wells in person kind of freaked her out, and Caitlin was nice but definitely passionate about taking apart and understanding everything around her. She didn’t entirely feel confident that if something weird was going on their scientific curiosity wouldn’t get the better of them.

It was somewhat therapeutic to walk down the busy streets of New York again, the familiar sights made her feel like nothing had really changed. The gentle heat of the sun on her pale skin hinted at the building heat of summer, and the faint drone of passing traffic soothed her, a sound she’d grown fond of since moving to Queens.

She should have known it wouldn’t last. That this was the calm before the storm.

The screech of tyres cut through the usual constant hum of city noise as a car hurtled around the corner of the block, bringing to her attention the shrill sound of pursuing sirens.

Beatrice watched as the world slowed down once more, the car careened down the street at such a high speed that she wasn’t convinced the driver was fully in control.

Further along the block she caught sight of a small figure toddling across the road, a young girl, dark pigtails slightly lopsided. She couldn’t have been older than five, she must have slipped the attention of a harried parent and wandered out into what was usually a fairly quiet street. The little girl continued, entirely ignorant of the danger, but the startled scream from nearby told her that her mother definitely wasn’t.

The redhead reacted instinctively. She couldn’t just watch this happen, ordinarily this reaction would have meant she’d have merely lurched forward haunted by the sickening knowledge she would never get there in time.

Except she did.

She barely had time to register her own shock as the world became a blur and she covered the distance faster than she’d ever thought possible. Arms reached out to scoop the rosy-cheeked child to her chest as she altered her path in the direction of the panicked screaming.

Beatrice gently placed the small girl on the sidewalk by her parent, who hugged her child desperately to her chest, sobbing in relief. The teen girl was too busy trying not to start hyperventilating to see the sweet hazel eyes that gazed up at her in wonder, or hear the garbled words of gratitude the mother tried to speak through her tears.

She stumbled backwards away from the newly reunited pair, and the gawping bystanders, desperate to distance herself from the incident. With another burst of unintentional speed, she found herself hightailing it down an alleyway. A horrifying thought occurred to her as the end of the alley came into view:

_‘how the hell do I stop?!’_

She didn’t have time to consider the quandary further as a dumpster rather effectively, and painfully, solved the problem for her. With a deafening crash she felt herself crumple against the side of it as the metal buckled under the force of the impact. She lay there for a moment, completely still, too traumatised to move and discover just how badly she’d injured herself, right now she was still numb with leftover adrenaline.

Beatrice was startled out of her trance by just about the least expected exclamation. From several floors up, she heard a distant voice that sounded heavily weathered with age. Damn raccoons!”

She was almost startled to laughter, apparently her alarming collision with an object made of thick metal was easily confused with pesky vermin. The redhead retained her prone position for a moment longer, to make sure that no one would see her move into clear view if they were glancing out of their windows to investigate the noise.

Deeming herself in the clear she started to attempt to push herself into an upright position, immediately crumpling again. Searing pain lanced up her arm, causing her to bite back a scream as tears stung her eyes. She scrunched her eyes closed, biting her bottom lip with such force that she was sure it would bleed.

After several deep breaths she mentally braced herself to try again, this time using the arm that didn’t cause her excruciating pain. Now in a seated position she forced her eyes open again so she could take in the damage.

“Fuck. How am I supposed to explain this to Joe!”

Her wrist hung at an awkward angle, and it didn’t take a doctor to know that it definitely was not supposed to bend that way. If the agonising pain hadn’t been enough to clue her in to what was wrong, then that gruesome sight definitely was.

“Come on, Allen. Let’s be logical, we need a game plan,” she coached herself, trying to focus on thinking through her options.

Yesterday, after her lab trip her arm had shown no evidence of their tests. After five months in a coma, when by all rights she should have had to go through a course of physiotherapy, she had woken up remarkably spry. She had gotten up and walked around like she’d just finished having a powernap. Ever since then she’d been filled with a ridiculous amount of energy, more than she had ever had before, the constant jitteriness had gotten her several strange looks form her family and friends.

Caitlin had said her cells were in a chronic state of cellular regeneration, right? Surely that would mean they were repairing themselves at an unusually fast rate, ergo her arm _should_ heal. It seemed like a longshot, and doing nothing was admittedly a ridiculously stupid move.

She didn’t have a whole lot of choice though, she couldn’t go to Joe because she knew she would never get a believable excuse past his detective mode. Not only that, but he’d definitely drag her to the hospital, and it would look incredibly suspicious if they diagnosed her with a broken wrist and it _did_ heal.

Beatrice heaved a resigned sigh, trash splint and hope for the best it was then.

Hopefully, if she braced it correctly and it did heal she wouldn’t experience too many complications, the last thing she wanted was it to heal incorrectly. She was pretty sure she’d be able to make something workable from the contents of her bag, and if not, she supposed she could go dumpster diving, though the thought made her grimace.

With a plan now formulated she resolved to do the best she could with the resources on hand, and monitor it carefully over the next day or so. Once it healed, fingers crossed, she would call Cisco and hope she had correctly assessed his character. If it didn’t heal, well, she’d probably still call Cisco because she had this whole superspeed fiasco to deal with.

 


	3. For The Thrill Of It

_We are always running for the thrill of it thrill of it_  
Always pushing up the hill searching for the thrill of it  
On and on and on we are calling out and out again  
Never looking down I'm just in awe of what's in front of me

-Walking on a Dream by Empire of the Sun

______________________________

 

When Cisco had suggested a discreet location for their meeting she hadn’t anticipated the shady warehouse they currently found themselves in. The air was thick with the scent of rust, and the echo of dripping water combined with the gloomy lighting made her feel like the next victim in a cliché crime film. The unwitting victim that would get predictably shot when the inadvisable deal went sour.

“Cisco, just what is this supposed to be?!” she called out in aggravation from her spot behind a large stack of crates, she was currently using them as a makeshift changing screen while she put on… whatever _this_ was. Admittedly, she could probably have changed in front of him fast enough that her modesty wouldn’t be in danger, but frankly that felt a little icky.

“Spandex,” came the entirely too pleased reply.

She grumbled incoherently before voicing her next question, “and why exactly am I wearing spandex? Because last time I checked I wasn’t auditioning for a role in a crappy 70s adaptation of a comic book.”

“We’re testing your speed, we needed something that you could run in with low air resistance so we can take a more accurate measurement,” he paused for a moment, for he continued in a more excited tone. “Speaking of comic books, dude. Do you know how cool this is? You’re actually like a comic book hero, or the Avengers or something. You have freaking superpowers! You saved a genuine tiny human.”

“Yeah, and broke my freaking wrist. Sounds like a real success to me,” Beatrice drawled with heavy sarcasm.

“Aww Come on, Bea, cut yourself some slack. You didn’t even know you were secretly Sonic the Hedgehog until then. No good comic book hero starts out on peak form, we’re mid origin story here, we have time to figure things out.” She could hear the glee in his voice, and despite her obscured eyeline she could practically see him gesticulating wildly in his excitement. In fairness, she probably would have been equally excited if she hadn’t been having a low-key freak out ever since it she woke up.

Cisco did have a point though, if she could get a handle on these powers, she could do a lot of good with them. Really help people, make a difference. Stop some other kid from feeling as vulnerable and helpless as she did the night she lost her mother.

Beatrice emerged from behind the crates, after giving one final tug to the spandex in a vain attempt to make them cling less. She crossed the warehouse to stand by Cisco who was using another set of crates as an improvised desk for all his equipment. The redhead stubbornly ignored the frankly impressive shade of red his olive skin turned upon catching sight of her, he nearly dropped the helmet he had clutched between his hands.

He coughed awkwardly and all but threw the helmet at her. “How does it feel?”

“Snug,” she deadpanned, placing the helmet on her head and securely buckling it in place.

Her answer shocked him into laughter, snapping him back to his usual excitable self. “Yeah, well, hopefully you’ll be going so fast no one will see,” he teased. She refrained from pointing out he was the only person here and he already had. “Now, here’s the lowdown. You see, you thought the world was slowing down. It wasn’t. You were moving so fast it only looked like everyone else was standing still.” He gestured towards the equipment he’d set out, “it’s not very sophisticated, but I was a bit restricted in what I could bring by how much I can carry. I’m going to be monitoring your speed and vitals from here.”

“How exactly did you get this equipment from the lab, Cisco?” Beatrice asked curiously.

“It was pretty easy actually, I do lots of projects at home and Doctor Wells lets me borrow some of the less expensive equipment, as long as I return it and don’t break it. He’s all about ‘cultivating young minds’ and all that jazz.” He smirked at her, dark eyes glinting with mischief, “just try not to do the same thing to my work station as you did to that dumpster.”

She only responded with a harsh, unamused glare that swiftly spurred him to move on. “Speaking of projects, I have something here I’ve been working on.” He dug into his jean pocket, pulling out a round black disc. “Check it. This is a two-way headset with a camera I modified, typically designed to combat battlefield impulse noise. Or in your case, potential sonic booms!” His expression became visibly more delighted as he spoke. “Which would be awesome.” He clipped the disc onto the side of her helmet.

Cisco’s enthusiasm seemed to be rubbing off on her as she couldn’t restrain the thrilled grin that pulled at the corner of her mouth. “Yeah, I guess it would be… so I just… run, then?” she inquired.

“Pretty much,” he nodded. “start at this end of the warehouse,” he said, pointing at one of the shorter walls near them. “Then just run as fast as you can at the opposite wall, I would recommend trying to stop before you hit it though. It probably wouldn’t be the worst thing if you did, considering your broken wrist healed in, like, three hours, still doesn’t sound like fun though.” He turned around to make his way over to his place, paused part way and wheeled back around to address her. “But, probably try to avoid it anyway, somebody might notice a person shaped hole in the side of the wall.”

Beatrice rolled her eyes, “this isn’t Looney Toons, Cisco, and besides I have no intention of putting myself through that again. It fucking hurt like hell.”

She started jogging towards the spot he’d indicated, laughing as she heard his response of “language!” in a crotchety old man voice, as he pretended to be outraged. Her smile was amused as she settled into the position coach made them adopt at the start of a track race in gym.

“Whenever you’re ready, dude.” Cisco yelled a moment later.

She rolled her shoulders, inhaling and exhaling a little as she psyched herself up. A part of her felt like this was going to be momentous. The presence of someone she knew witnessing and confirming what she was experiencing would really make it real.

Beatrice held her position for a moment longer, and Cisco briefly wondered if perhaps she wasn’t going to be able to replicate the event. Perhaps it was a power that relied on emotion, and the high stress situation involving the toddler had prompted its unexpected manifestation.

Then, before he could pursue his theory any longer a great gust of wind pushed him backwards a few steps, scattering some of the debris that littered the floor of the warehouse. A bright red blur the exact colour of her spandex and helmet flew across the space, sparking with golden lightning, as the roar of rushing air filled their ears.

“Holy shit!” Cisco cheered, eyes wide and shining. By the time Beatrice managed to bring herself to a halt on the opposite side of the room he was jumping up and down like a six-year-old with a sugar rush. “You passed two-hundred miles per hour!”

“Seriously?” she asked, slightly giddy herself.

“Seriously!” in the blink of an eye the teenage girl was stood directly in front of him vibrating with energy. “You officially have superspeed! How freaking sweet is that? Also, speed healing! I bet with more room you could go even faster.”

“This is… unbelievable. So, I can- just- whoosh? What does it look like?”

“You’re just a blur, it was so fast I couldn’t even make you out.”

“Jeez, that’s bonkers!” her excitement had waned a little now, and she stared off into the distance as she considered the practical applications of this new ability. “All my life I’ve wanted to do more. Be more. And now I am.” She shook her head, glancing up at Cisco, features hard with determination. “I think- I think I have to use this, you know to help people. Like the little girl the other day. Now I have…” she trailed off for a moment, struggling to wrap her mind around it “…powers. I can use them, for the better.”

Cisco seemed a little overwhelmed for a moment before he began gushing, “this just keeps getting cooler and cooler. Looks like Spider-Man is gonna have some competition!” he sang.

“Spider-Man?” Beatrice scoffed, “he’s just an urban myth, isn’t he? No one has actually confirmed anything yet, just some scattered twitter posts.”

“Well you exist, don’t you? So, does a literal Norse god of thunder, no reason why some dude can’t be swinging around New York with his webs. Which, by the way, I can’t decide whether it would be cool or gross if he produced those organically. Either way, you can both run around kicking ass and taking names.”

Beatrice laughed, “I’m going to skip over the web bit, just for my own mental wellbeing. Though I have to wonder how effective I’m going to be at that stuff in bright red spandex. Unless I’m going to be trying to blind criminals into submission.”

Cisco tilted his head thoughtfully. “Tell you what, give me a week or so, and I’ll ring you when I figure something out. I think I’ve got an idea how I’m going to kit you out a little better.”

“Colour me intrigued,” she said as she removed her helmet shaking her fiery waves loose, “for today though, we should probably get this packed up and head back before we’re missed."

_______________________

 

Time passed in an impatient, but excited haze for Beatrice over the next five days, waiting for Cisco to call. She had endeavoured to distract herself as much as possible.

She was currently hanging out at Peter’s for one of their study sessions that had become a pretty regular thing since she’d woken up. All the stuff she had to catch up on had really made her appreciate that they both had genius level IQs, this whole debacle would have been exponentially more taxing if they didn’t. Although, she didn’t feel like she could complain too much considering she’d come out of the whole thing with superpowers, and a readymade reason to spend more time with Peter.

The recognisable beep of the Kim Possible ‘Kimmunicator’ sound suddenly started, halting the steady turn of textbook pages and the scratching of pens. She was confused for a moment trying to work out where the noise was emanating from, before realising it was her phone. Beatrice flushed a dark red in embarrassment, she knew that the mischievous smile Cisco had when programming his number into her phone had been a bad omen.

She cleared her throat a little awkwardly as her best friend looked at her, eyebrows raised in curiosity and amusement. “Sorry, that’s me, I should probably take this” she said, digging her phone out of her pocket. The redhead hurried to press the accept button, “hello, Cisco. I hope you weren’t expecting me to answer with ‘what’s the sitch’” she greeted with an eyeroll, a little peeved at him.

Peter was trying very hard to look like he wasn’t eavesdropping, making a show of staring at his textbook and purposefully turning a page. He vaguely managed to catch a boisterous laugh from the other side of the phone, before a distinctly male voice responded to her. “Aww, Bea, you’re no fun. Good thing I’ve got some news that’s really going to cheer you up.”

The brunet teen nearly fell out of his chair in shock as his redheaded friend propelled herself across to her feet, practically dancing across the room as her annoyance transformed into jubilation. He was disappointed to note that she was now too far away from her to hear the exact words from the guy she was talking to.

“Oh my god! Seriously, it’s ready? You’re kidding, right? Please tell me you’re not kidding.” She paused, likely waiting for a response. She began to jump and down in excitement squealing a little, Peter wasn’t sure he’d ever seen her so excited. “Cisco, you are incredible! I can’t wait to see it, this is so exciting! I’ll be over as soon as possible, same place as last time? Perfect, see you soon.” She hung up, whirling around to frantically shove all her stuff into her backpack.

“Cisco?” the brown eyed teen blurted out tactlessly, wincing. He’d been trying to go for aloof, to play it cool, but yet again his mouth had betrayed his brain. He didn’t want to sound jealous. He _wasn’t_ jealous. She was allowed to have other friends, Cisco was probably just a friend, surely? She’d have told him if that wasn’t the case. Beatrice appeared to be too preoccupied to notice his pity party.

“Oh, I didn’t tell you? I kept in contact with him after I woke up in S.T.A.R. Labs, you met him right? He mentioned you. I’m kind of surprised you guys haven’t stayed in touch, he is a fellow nerd after all. He’d fit right in with our ‘golden trio’” She chuckled. “He was, uh-, telling me about a project he’s been working on, he promised I could see it when he’s done. He wanted someone to have a look at it before he showed it to Doctor Wells.” Beatrice cleared her throat again, rubbing the back of her neck.

Peter narrowed his eyes at the action, he knew her well enough to know that it indicated she was anxious about something. She wasn’t nervous to go see Cisco, was she? The guy had seemed nice in S.T.A.R. Labs, but he hadn’t really interacted with him enough to get a proper sense of his character, he’d been too focused on Beatrice. He was _older_ though, so even if he was a nerd he was probably cooler, and he had to be really smart to have caught Doctor Wells’ attention. He forced himself to ignore the uncomfortable twisting sensation in his stomach.

She fiddled with her bag strap, looking antsy. “Are you ok if I go now? We were nearly done anyways.”

He nodded with a lopsided smile that felt a little stilted. “Sure, no problem. We can pick up again whenever…”

“Brilliant!” she beamed at him, “thanks Peter, you’re the best.”

_‘Yeah, but Cisco is incredible apparently.’_ He thought to himself despondently.

She continued oblivious to his inner turmoil. “I’ll text you later to sort something out,” she bounced over pulling him into a quick hug, that he eagerly returned despite his dour mood. She pulled away swiftly, leaving him feeling slightly bereft, light pink dusted her cheekbones. “Bye, Peter!” she called, jogging out of the room.

All at once she was gone, leaving him staring at the spot she’d just vacated, he heard the sound of the front door opening and closing. He sighed, running a hand through his usually neatly styled hair. God, he really hoped he was just being paranoid.  
  
________________________

 

As soon as Beatrice reached the mostly disused stairwell, because residents preferred the lift, she took off in an enthusiastic blur. Cisco had assured her he was already waiting for her at the warehouse, anticipating that she’d be too excited to wait for long.

A giddy smile lit up her face as she felt the wind rush past her, she whooped in joy as she ran. Amazed as colours bled together, turning the world around her into a Monet painting. She could identify the things around her, but the details were indistinct. She felt free. It was exhilarating. The feeling that she could go anywhere, accomplish anything, it tore a delighted laugh from her lungs. Nothing could ever compare to this, she didn’t think she could ever get used to it, and she really hoped that she never would. She wanted it to always be this thrilling.

She slid to a halt in front of the door to the warehouse, oblivious to the sparks that sputtered from her shoes as they scraped against the tarmac. However, the scent of burning rubber and the strange warmth of her feet promptly grabbed her attention.

“Crap, crap, crap, crap.” She chanted, frantically stomping her feet in an effort to prevent her shoes from combusting any further. Fortunately, the situation was rapidly brought under control. “Ugh! I’m gonna ruin all my shoes at this rate,” she lamented, huffing in annoyance.

Upon entering the warehouse, she quickly spotted Cisco by a stack of crates, he was hunched over what looked like a pile of dark red leather.

“Sup, dude!” he called as she zipped over to him.

“So… is this the fabled suit? Or are you about to confess a leather kink, because if so, I’m going to have to stop you there.” She teased, with a cheeky smile, bumping her shoulder against his.

He shoved her a little, shooting her a mild glare which. He couldn’t hold it for long before his elation got the better of him and he adopted his usual goofy grin. “The former. I had the basics for it already, but it needed a little adapting. For one it actually needed to fit you, so thanks for sending me your measurements by the way, I also added my own little flair to it. Every super suit needs to look at least a little dramatic. It started out as a design intended to replace the turnouts firemen usually wear.” He shrugged sheepishly, “I thought that maybe if S.T.A.R. Labs helped the community out a little, people may not hate Doctor Wells so much.”

Beatrice nodded at him encouragingly, “right, so how is this gonna help me?”

“It’s made of a reinforced tri-polymer, it’s heat and abrasive resistant, so it should withstand you moving at high velocity speeds. Also, the aerodynamic design should help you maintain control, plus it has built in sensors so I can track your vitals and stay in contact while you’re ‘whooshing’ around.” Cisco explained.

She lifted a single inquisitive eyebrow, “stay in contact?”

He clapped her on the shoulder in a gesture of camaraderie, “dude, you didn’t think I was going to let you embark on this ultra badass superhero thing, alone did you?” He smirked. “I’ll be like Oracle in the Batman comics. You know, giving you locations, pep talks, advice, that kind of thing. I’ll be the eyes and ears, and you’ll be the feet.”

Beatrice reeled for a moment, slightly taken aback. “Jeez, Cisco. You’ve really thought this through, haven’t you? Won’t your parents wonder what you’re doing?”

His expression immediately dimmed. “Of course, I’ve thought about this, this is like my childhood dream! Fighting crime alongside a superhero, without the risk of getting my ass kicked. Definitely worth the late nights, besides once I get an idea, I tend to get tunnel vision.” He shrugged, “and my parents won’t notice a thing, they’ll just assume I’m wasting my life playing an online video game or something.” Cisco rolled his eyes in an attempt to play it off as a joke, but she could tell by the tense set of his shoulders that it was not a topic of discussion he was keen on pursuing.

“Fair enough, I guess I should try on your masterpiece then.” She decided not to dig into what was clearly a personal matter, beginning to vibrate in excitement at the prospect of an actual super suit.

Cisco laughed, regaining his good humour. “You’re, going to love it, dude. Side note though, you should probably keep an eye on the whole excited bouncing thing if you want to keep your superspeed a secret. You start moving that fast and you start getting motion blur… actually that could be useful.” He paused thoughtfully. “If you need to hide your identity in a pinch, that’d be perfect. Just try not to do it accidently or people will think you’re possessed by the energizer bunny.” He said, chuckling to himself.

She giggled a little before sobering, she did need to try and consciously control it. He was right, it would be a dead giveaway. Someone would notice, and she would have no guarantee that they could be trusted or would have good intentions. She closed her eyes so she could concentrate on the sensation, and she slowly felt herself still. That was good, she could control it. Hopefully, with a little time, she would be able to identify when it was happening and stop it before it would be obvious.

Issue dealt with she turned her attention back to the suit, taking in its appearance. The red was a shade somewhere between scarlet and maroon. On closer inspection she realised that the suit wasn’t entirely made of the leather-like material, the arms and lower torso were formed of something that appeared to be Kevlar. Though knowing Cisco, he might have synthesised his own materials, she wouldn’t put it past him. The hood of the suit was more like a cowl, covering her forehead, cheekbones and jawline but leaving the rest of her face exposed. Enough to conceal her identity, without being cumbersome or stifling. The arms and legs of the suit had gold detailing extending along them in a pattern that vaguely resembled lightning, matching the symbol Cisco had added on the chest and on either side of the cowl. A shining golden thunderbolt, encased in the outline of an equally golden circle. An emblem.

Beatrice smiled, it was better than she ever could have imagined. Not that she was much of a designer anyway. It looked practical, and pretty damn badass. In a flurry of movement undiscernible to the human eye, she donned the suit behind another stack of crates. It fit perfectly, form fitting but not in a way that made her self-conscious.

Cisco gave an excited whoop as soon as he saw her fully changed.

Beatrice grinned from ear to ear, “I take it that’s your official seal of approval?”

He nodded vigorously in assent, “Yes! I am a genius- “

“Modest too.”

“-the measurements are perfect, not too tight to restrict movement, but not loose enough to cause air resistance. This shade of red is great as well, it’ll make you recognisable but still blend in well if you need to be all sneaky. You comfy?” His tone suggested that he thought he highly doubted she wouldn’t be.

“Yep!” she chirped happily, rotating her limbs and shifting around experimentally. “Feels good. I do have a question though, what’s the symbol about?” gesturing curiously at her chest.

“So it’s not boring of course!” he stated as if it was a quintessential fact of life, as unquestionable as gravity. “The two symbols on either side of your head have the same technology as that patch I put on your helmet last time. You fancy giving the new gear a test drive?” he raised his brow in challenge.

Beatrice smirked, “I thought you’d never ask.”

 

 


	4. Spiral In Motion

_This man, this dutiful man has got this sense of devotion  
One look, one touch of a hand can set the spiral in motion_

-Move by Saint Motel.

 __________________________

 

Over a week passed in a blur of studying, spending time with her friends and highspeed vigilantism. Rumours of the scarlet speedster had started to spread in the corners of the internet that obsessed about the weird and the wonderful. Beatrice hoped that when they got around to naming her it wouldn’t be something awful, she had heard ‘The Streak’ thrown around and she really didn’t want that one to stick. Her first week had been pretty low-key in all honesty, mostly foiling a few robberies, rescuing a few cats. She’d tried to concentrate on getting a good feel for her powers, and how to approach situations to use them to her best advantage.

The novice crime fighter was currently settled cosily in the corner of the sofa at Peter’s place, Peter himself was next to her, flanked on his other side by Ned. The scent of salted popcorn hung in the air as the end credits of ‘The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy’ scrolled merrily by, the dulcet tones of Stephen Fry quietly drifting the room. The film was a favourite among the three of them, regardless of the differences from the book.

Peter cleared his throat, catching the attention of his two companions, he had fidgeted nervously throughout the movie, and it hadn’t taken long for the other two to realised there was something on his mind. “I, err-, have some news.”

The both turned to look at him expectantly. Beatrice rolled her eyes as she noticed his reluctance, clearly he needed a nudge, she untucked her feet from under her to gently kick him, “Yeeees, go on.”

“I didn’t tell anyone at the time, but… well, I guess I applied for an internship? And I apparently… got in?” he shrugged, as if trying to dismiss the whole thing as no big deal. The redhead raised an eyebrow, wondering why he made his confession sound more like a question. She didn’t dwell on it for long as she finally comprehended what he’d said.

“Oh my god, Peter! That’s incredible, congratulations.” Beatrice enthused, he’d been vaguely mentioning thinking about going for an internship for quite a while, last year he’d been considering Oscorp but nothing had come of it.

Ned happily clapped him on the back, “congrats man! Who’s it with?” he asked.

“…T-Tony Stark.”

A chorus of shocked gasps reached his ears, and he was surprised when a pair of slender arms launched themselves around his neck. “Tony Stark? Peter, that’s even cooler, he’s your idol! You deserve this, you really do. When do you start?” she babbled, before noticing what she’d done. Both teens drew back blushing as Ned watched on in exasperation and amusement.

“Tomorrow actually, he’s taking me on his business trip to Berlin for a few days.”

Ned’s jaw dropped. “You’re going to Europe with, _the_ Tony Stark? Iron Man himself. Germany. Another country. With a living breathing superhero.”

Beatrice and Peter were a little worried he was going to start hyperventilating. The latter chose to answer before he could work himself up anymore, “I guess, I’ll probably just be, you know, sitting in on meetings. Maybe taking notes. But I get to go to another country like you said, so that’s pretty sweet.”

Ned laughed, it came off slightly hysterical. “’Pretty sweet’ he says, like that isn’t the understatement of the year. I can’t believe you’re going to be best friends with the actual Iron Man, you better tell us everything when you get back, _everything.”_ The intensity with which he said it made Peter shuffle back from him a little, he looked about to respond when Ned gasped. “Wait! If you’re going to hang out with Iron Man you need to ask him about the Avengers. Maybe he could introduce you. How cool would that be, you could ask Thor if he uses his hammer for, like, putting up shelves. I’ve always wondered that.” Ned’s eyes were wild as he stared at Peter imploringly.

The pale teen boy tried to stammer out a response, as Beatrice began laughing manically at the mental image. Picturing Thor assembling IKEA furniture, hammer in hand getting progressively more frustrated with the instructions.

Ned was far too excited to pay attention to either of them, the possibilities were sending his mind reeling. “You could ask him about all the superhero rumours too. Like the red and blue dude, Spider-Man, the one some of the papers keep calling a public menace.” The colour that remained from Peter’s earlier blushing immediately drained away, his heartrate picking up in worry. Fortunately, Beatrice was too preoccupied recovering from her laughing fit to notice. Ned forged on, oblivious. “I bet Tony Stark knows more about him, he probably knows all the heroes. Even that really new one, you know that’s all fast and stuff.”

The redhead stilled, the conversation very suddenly regained her attention. Peter eagerly seized the opportunity to steer Ned away from the topic of Spider-Man, “A new hero? I haven’t heard anything?”

The chubby teen shrugged, “you wouldn’t have, not unless you’ve really been paying attention. When I said new, I meant it. There haven’t been any proper news reports or anything, just internet posts of a red and gold blur. Some woman mentioned someone really fast saved her kids life, but she wouldn’t say any more about it than that. People were intrigued, but with so little information and a week of nothing we all kind of assumed it was a hoax. Then out of nowhere, the posts start up again. Only small things, and whoever it is doesn’t hang around for long enough for anyone to get a good glimpse at them.” Beatrice shouldn’t have been surprised at how knowledgeable Ned was about this, it was exactly the kind of thing that intrigued him. “There’s definitely something to it though. Police arrive at a convenience store hold-up and the robber is already unconscious and unarmed and the cashier says there was a rush of wind and colour and he was suddenly lying there. Or an old lady gets her handbag snatched and next thing she knows it’s back in her hand. You know, weird stuff like that. I bet if anyone knows more about it, it’s Iron Man.”

Beatrice maintained a neutral expression while Peter took a moment to process the information. His brow furrowed in thought, “wasn’t there that guy in Sokovia who was supposed to be fast? D’you think it could be related?”

Ned shook his head, “I’m pretty sure it’s not the same dude, I think people were saying he died. Doesn’t mean that they didn’t get their powers the same way though. What do you think, Triss?”

She coloured a little as they both looked at her, making a concerted effort to keep her cool. She had been hoping they would be too excited talking about superheroes and Iron Man they wouldn’t notice her lack of input. She pushed her hand through her ginger hair, finding her hands needed something to do. “Well, I don’t know really. Sounds like there isn’t a lot to go off. I guess if they’re helping people that’s what matters, I don’t really care who they are. Besides, like Ned says, it’s all just rumours, for all we know they could just be making stuff up. People always like a good mystery or conspiracy theory.” She coughed a little, preparing to change the subject, not entirely convinced she’d managed to keep her casual façade. “I’m more interested in hearing about Peter’s internship anyway, the internet can keep its factually questionable theories.”

The tawny haired teen stared at her for a moment, bewildered, he hadn’t missed her nervous tells. It was a little odd she’d avoided debating the topic, usually she enjoyed throwing around wild explanations with them. Even if she wasn’t in the mood to do so, she usually at least humoured Ned when he got all wound up, she’d essentially just shut him down this time, albeit nicely. It was… odd. Never mind, it was probably nothing, and he knew better than to push her if she might be in a bad mood.

“There’s not actually that much to tell at the moment,” he replied honestly, Tony hadn’t actually given him all that much information, just told him that Happy would pick him up tomorrow. “Speaking of internships though, are you still going to be continuing at the NYPD? After everything that…” he swallowed thickly, “that, err-, happened?”

Both boys looked curious, but mildly hesitant to broach the subject. Beatrice scoffed, “calm down you losers,” though her tone was warm with fondness. “I’m not going to freak out if you mention it. Yes, I do plan on returning eventually.”

“Eventually?” Ned prompted.

“I’ve been emailing Mr. Harari and we’ve both agreed I should take some time to enjoy my summer and then settle back into the school routine. So, I’m probably going to pick it up again at the start of next year, a little before the second academic semester starts.”

The others nodded at her solemnly in understanding, Beatrice rolled her eyes, drama queens. She broke their maudlin moment by bouncing onto her feet and padding over to the kitchen on a mission, “have you got ice cream, Peter? I’m starving! Also, people who get internships with world-renowned inventors and professional ass-kickers, should get celebratory ice cream. I hear it’s a very elite group.” Her stomach growled and her lips quirked up in a slightly embarrassed smile, “also the hungry thing.”

Peter leaned over the back of the couch, raising his brows at her, “you want food? After the popcorn we had, the red vines, the nachos, and the burgers we grabbed on the way here?”

“How are you still hungry?” Ned asked, baffled.

“I’ve been jogging.” The redhead responded with an airy laugh, amused by her own private joke.

________________________

 

Peter had been in Berlin for a little over a day now, and the sporadic texts and photos he’d sent suggested he was enjoying himself. It seemed like Stark was keeping him busy judging by the length of time between updates, she particularly liked reading the manic text chains he’d send her when he had a spare moment. If she left her phone unattended she sometimes came back to twenty odd messages in a row, it was so Peter that every time she saw them she was filled with a fond warmth. In Peter’s absence, she’d spent some time discussing upcoming LEGO projects with Ned, it wasn’t something she was particularly interested in, and she usually didn’t join in for the building part, but she was happy to talk about it. Apparently, he was saving up for a Death Star model for his and Pete’s next big endeavour. When she wasn’t with Ned, she had been continuing her pursuit of lowering the petty crime rate around Queens.

Speaking of petty crime, duty called. She drained the last dregs of her latte, throwing the cup into a nearby trashcan as the ridiculous ringtone Cisco had chosen reached her ears. Admittedly, she could have changed it, but a small part of her found it highly amusing. Plus, the nostalgia factor was pretty high.

“Hey, Cisco.” She greeted.

“You up for a little fire and rescue?”

She grinned, “I think I can spare some time, location?”

“Apartment building near the Napoli pizza place on 164th, I think you’ll see it from there.”

“Got it, on my way.”

Hanging up she ducked into an alleyway for a ‘quick change’, she didn’t really need to, but she felt oddly exposed in the middle of the street despite the fact no one could see her.

Suit donned, she took off at a confident run. Revelling in the blur of motion, and rush of wind. A few seconds passed before Cisco’s tinny voice reached her through her earpiece, “Bea! Beatrice!” He sounded like he was talking around a lollipop, which wasn’t unusual. He had an insatiable sweet tooth.

The redhead ground to a halt, “what, did I miss it?”

“You overshot by six blocks,” Cisco responded sounding vaguely amused.

Beatrice sighed, “my bad,” and the dark-haired teen watched as the little GPS marker on his screen backtracked to the correct location in the blink of an eye.

She barely paused as she ran past the crowd gathered outside the apartment building, but even in her haste she caught the desperate cries of a mother looking for her child. She frowned, that most likely meant people were still trapped, she’d better hurry then. She figured she’d start at the bottom and do a full sweep of the building, keeping an ear out for any further shouts for help.

“Tracker says you’re there, you in the building yet?” Cisco asked.

“Yes, and feeling very grateful that this suit was designed with firefighters in mind, because unsurprisingly there is fire everywhere. It’s getting a little hot under the collar.”

Sure enough, Cisco could hear the intense roar of the blaze through his speakers. Beatrice didn’t register his response as she heard frightened yelling from nearby.  A young girl, calling for her mother through heart-wrenching sobs.

Time to get to work.

Rescuing the child was easy enough, she was light and Beatrice swiftly deposited her outside where she was greeted by her mother’s waiting arms. The next person she found was a woman, petite enough that carrying her out of the inferno wasn’t particularly different form her previous rescue. Beatrice did worry that her next port of call would not go quite so smoothly, the last person trapped was a burly gentleman that she wasn’t sure she’d be able to lift. But she had to try. Thankfully, her coma gifted muscles weren’t just for show, frankly she thought she might be a little stronger than her muscles warranted. She certainly felt the man’s weight as she manoeuvred him outside, but she wasn’t under debilitating strain even when she burst into a run. Perhaps it was due to the high activity of her cells? It certainly wasn’t anywhere near being considered super strength, but it set her solidly above average for her demographic.

Beatrice didn’t hang around for the aftermath, the people she’d removed from the blaze were being tended to by paramedics, and the fire itself was being brought under control by the fire department. She made herself scarce, ducking into an alley several blocks away to update Cisco.

“We did it again, Cisco! They’re putting the fire out now, no casualties.”

She heard Cisco’s boisterous whoop as a sudden wave of dizziness came over her, she stumbled forward a few steps and managed to catch herself on the edge of a dumpster to avoid keeling over.

Whatever the dark-haired teen had been about to respond with previously was dismissed as he watched some of the readings on his screen fluctuate, “Woah, dude, are you ok? I think your vitals just spiked.”

Beatrice shook her head in an attempt to clear the fog and refocus her vision, “yeah, fine. No worries. But if there’s nothing else at the moment, I think I’m going to call it quits for the day.”

She frowned in confusion, it was probably nothing, maybe she was sick, a head cold or something like that. She’d only bother Cisco if it persisted.

____________________

 

It was around six in the evening when Beatrice arrive home at the West residence, fully intending to spend the next few hours relaxing with snacks. She had been surprisingly hungry lately, and she figured that after dealing with that fire today she deserved to veg out a little.

As she entered the hallway she gently kicked the door shut behind her, bobbing along to the music from her headphones, ‘Speedline Miracle Masterpiece’ by Tunde Adebimpe had been her jam lately. She toed off her vibrant red converse, kicking them vaguely in the direction of the shoe rack. Shoving her keys into the jeans of her pocket, she shrugged off her well-worn brown leather jacket as the warmth of the house welcomed her.

Halfway up the stairs on her way to divest herself of her bag before embarking on her quest for sustenance, she was accosted by the whirlwind that was Iris West with a new obsession. Beatrice watched in detached interest, eyebrow raised, as Iris rambled on a mile a minute. She had no idea what had gotten the dark-skinned girl in such a tizzy as she still had her headphones in. She should probably take them out, but it was sort of amusing watching her wildly gesticulate as her mouth moved soundlessly.  Apparently, her surrogate sister in all but blood had yet to notice her inattention. With an eye roll she reluctantly pulled her headphones out, unsure she had the energy to deal with Iris when she was so wound up. As soon as the music left her hearing range it was replaced by Iris mid-rant.

“-talking about it everywhere. There have been rumours for weeks, and the mainstream media is finally picking up on it. How exciting is this! After the fire today, people can’t keep denying it anymore.” Beatrice froze, the light freckles the summer sun had graced her skin with stood out in stark contrast as she paled. “People reported seeming a blur, and there’s no way those people trapped inside would’ve gotten out if The Streak hadn’t saved them.”

The redhead choked, “wait, what! Who the hell is ‘The Streak’? What kind of awful name is that anyway?”

Iris rolled her eyes. “Have you been living under a rock? I thought your nerdy self would have been all over this. You didn’t stop drawing the Avengers for months after the big fight against all those aliens.”

“Ned might have mentioned it, and don’t act like you were above it! I know for a fact Captain America was your first crush, you kept drawing little hearts around the pictures you made of him.” Beatrice responded in a lightly teasing tone, moving past Iris further upstairs. It would be easier to stop Iris getting suspicious about her odd behaviour when ‘The Streak’ came up if she couldn’t see her facial expressions, Iris knew her too well.

“You’re the worst,” Iris huffed at her, though she only sounded mildly perturbed. “Anyway, I’m going to be continuing with the newspaper club this fall when school starts back up, and Miss Stacy said that a blog would be a good way to practice writing articles if we had the time. I have the time, and now, I actually have a topic.”

The pale teen scoffed, “what, and you’re going to write about ‘The Streak’ are you?”

“Yes”, Iris replied heatedly. “Don’t be an ass, I didn’t come up with the name, and I doubt it’ll stick. That’s not the point, anyway, I’m sure we’re going to see plenty more of The Streak and I’m going to be ready to write about her when we do.”

Beatrice lurched to a halt so quickly that she nearly tripped over her own feet, catching herself on the doorframe of her room. “Her?! How could you possibly know if they’re a woman, you said no one has actually seen them. What makes you think it isn’t some huge super-jacked dude?”

Iris adopted a challenging stance, arms crossed and hip cocked to the side. “Actually, someone did get a photo, it’s pretty blurry but it’s from the fire today. The height and build compared to the last man she rescued seems pretty feminine to me, and you know I’m intuitive about these things. Don’t question me on this, I’m telling you, she is a she.” Her expression morphed from slight annoyance to curiosity. “Why aren’t you more excited about this? You love all this superhero stuff, and you’re always researching the impossible. I thought you’d be more supportive?”

The redhead shrugged, trying to affect an air of nonchalance. “I don’t know. I guess after all that’s happened over the last few months, you know the coma and stuff, my priorities have changed a bit.” She looked at Iris with concern. “I just don’t know how much you’ve thought about this, putting a blog out there about something like this is only going to bring the crazies knocking. I’m worried, and I think Joe would be too.”

“Well, you can both relax then. I’m not completely stupid. The blog is going to be anonymous, you’d be surprised to learn that having a cop for a dad did actually give me some common sense. Now, if you’re quite finished raining on my parade, I’m going to finish writing my first post. Time waits for no one!” Her dark eyes sparkled as her spirits remained undampened, she spun on her heel disappearing into her room.

Beatrice frowned at the empty hall, somehow, she wasn’t convinced this was a good development.

 


	5. I Should Know Better

_I can't get it together_  
 _I should know better_  
 _I got a mind like weather_  
 _That always seems to change  
\- _Adderall by Max Frost __  


____________________

The morning sun filtered lazily through the pale-yellow curtains, filling the room with a gentle warmth. Beatrice rolled over, still half dozing, blinking blearily as she half-heartedly tried to untangle her legs from the noose her blankets had formed. Ugh, why did her bed have to be so cosy, the universe was conspiring against her intention of being a functioning human being. In clumsy movements she flipped herself off her stomach so she was now staring at the ceiling, trying to identify the nagging feeling that there was something she was supposed to be doing.

She turned over to look at her alarm clock, 10:58. Huh… nearly eleven. Why did eleven seem important, eleven on a Tuesday of all days. Eleven, eleven, eleven, eleven. It was the summer, she didn’t have the internship, Peter was in Berlin…. Wait. No. No, he wasn’t.

He had gotten back late last night, and her and Ned had promised to meet at his apartment so they could hear all about his trip. At eleven.

She glanced again at the numbers, which glowed mockingly back. “Crap, crap, crap, crap.” She was such a terrible friend. In her blind panic she propelled herself out of bed, forgetting she’d never successfully untangled herself from her sheets. Her arms flailed desperately in a vain attempt to catch hold of something, anything, but the only thing in reach was air. With a dull thud, that sent air sputtering out of her lungs, she landed in an unceremonious heap. Beatrice groaned, she did _not_ have time for this.

Hold on, what was the point in having superspeed if she couldn’t occasionally use it a bit frivolously? There was no harm in it, surely? A wicked smirk curled her lips. Taking off in a haze of movement.

Beatrice slowed to a casual stroll as she emerged from the largely disuses stairwell in Peter’s building, entering the narrow hallway. There was a slight skip in her step as she made her way down the corridor, jauntily knocking on the slightly faded apartment door. She glanced down at her phone as she waited for someone to answer, 11:02, she felt a little smug. Maybe she could see if she could beat that time.

The slight smile was wiped off her face as her vision blurred, and her head swam. For a moment she felt like she was floating, the world swaying back and forth. Distantly she felt the door she was leaning on give way, and the vague sound of a startled exclamation. Her last coherent thought was that the doormat was about to become better acquainted with her face.

 

____________________

 

Beatrice blinked against the sudden harsh light, that seemed to punish her for daring to open her eyes. She took a moment to take stock of her situation, someone had move her onto what felt like the Parker’s couch, she was still feeling rather lightheaded and almost painfully hungry.

She pushed herself into a seated position with an involuntary groan, finally catching sight of her two very worried friends. Peter was perched on the arm of the couch, brows furrowed in anxiety and deep brown eyes unwaveringly focused on her, in a rare show of patience and tactfulness he waited for her to acclimate before bombarding her with questions. Ned had no such compunction as he quickly stood up from the armchair he had previously been occupying.

“Dude, you just keeled over, you really freaked us out” Ned said, indeed looking a little traumatised.

Peter nodded in agreement, “we heard the knock but by the time I’d got to the door you were already collapsing. There wasn’t even enough time to catch you, we were half worried you’d give yourself a concussion. Are you ok? Well of course you’re not, you fainted. Are you hurt though? Did something happen to- “

“Peter!” she interrupted sternly, she knew that if she didn’t cut it off he’d only carry on and work himself up more. Not that she didn’t appreciate the concern, in fact she could feel the familiar rising heat of a blush as he intently scanned her for potential injuries, she just didn’t have the patience right now. “Look, I don’t know what happened, but I’m fine. No, I wasn’t attacked or anything. I’m also not injured.” She swung her legs over the side of the couch, stubbornly ignoring how both her friends lurched forward in an aborted movement to steady her in case she keeled over again. “If I had to guess it’s probably just down to me not eating this morning or something because I was in such a rush. I’m sure if I can get some food in me, I’ll be just fine.”

The duo gaped at her for a moment, stupefied, until Peter finally gathered his voice enough to respond. “Beatrice, you don’t faint barely three weeks after a five-month coma and just, just…“ He gestured wildly in exasperation, “…dismiss it! You’ve never had a fainting issue before, and you spend your life in too much of a hurry for breakfast, you are _not_ fine!” His previously annoyed expression quickly drained away into one of concern and slight guilt, he found his shoes suddenly very interesting as he scratched behind his ear. “We were really worried, so we, er… well, we- “

“We called Joe.” Ned blurted out, looking like a deer caught in headlights.

Beatrice’s eyes were stormy as she glared at them. “You _what._ ”

The tallest teen attempted damage control, gesticulating wildly, “what were we supposed to do? You just fainted, and we had no idea why. We didn’t know how bad it was, it could have been serious. Like I said, passing out after a coma isn’t exactly good news.” His voice increased in pitch as he rambled. “We were worried, a-a-and we didn’t know what to do. So, we kind of… panicked. We thought about ringing 911. Then Ned remembered that the hospital was at a loss for treating you when you were there, and that’s why you were in S.T.A.R. Labs, but we didn’t have a number for them so we rang Joe. He’s going to take you to the lab for a check-up.”

Ned harshly elbowed Peter in the ribs, causing him to rub the spot and glare at his shorter friend in annoyance. “Thanks for dropping me in it, dude.” Ned ground out through clenched teeth, eyes flickering to Beatrice half worried she was going to exact revenge. Peter shrugged helplessly, a little contrite.

They both sagged in relief as Beatrice seemed to consider them for a moment before visibly deflating. She definitely wasn’t pleased, but she supposed she couldn’t blame them. They had been acting out of concern for her, and done what they thought best for her wellbeing. She wasn’t so much mad about Joe coming, as she was consumed with fear that S.T.A.R. Labs would figure out exactly what the accelerator has done to her. The rapid movement of her cells that they had observed when they’d first run tests were already interesting enough to them, she didn’t really want to know what would happen if they knew the truth. Knew just how much that night had changed her. Hopefully, if she played it cool she could pass off the dizziness and fainting as the only oddities she was experiencing.

She sighed, before giving the duo a small smile. “It’s a good job you two are my best friends considering you’ve just signed me up for an afternoon of getting poked with pointy objects.”

 

__________________

 

When Beatrice had imagined the reactions of the doctors at S.T.A.R. Labs she hadn’t quite anticipated the spectacularly angry rant she was being subjected to by the usually docile Caitlin Snow.

“How could you not tell someone you were experiencing dizzy spells? We are your doctors, god knows what is going on inside your body, your cells are in a constant state of flux and we have no idea how that could affect you.” Her heels clacked across the lab as she paced, Beatrice wasn’t sure how shoes could sound angry, but Caitlin managed it. “You could be experiencing cardiopulmonary failure, or a transient ischemic attack.”

Both Joe and Beatrice stared at her bewildered, the latter shot a questioning look at Doctor Wells from her perch on the edge of the hospital bed.

“Mini-stroke. Probably not.” Wells supplied.

Caitlin forged on, steadfastly holding eye contact with Beatrice with such fervour that she could feel the guilt clawing at her insides. “You’re an intelligent girl, and I thought that you would recognise that in science we share. We do not keep secrets.” With that the irate ginger woman stormed away, needing some distance.

Beatrice felt the truth on the tip of her tongue, she hadn’t meant to hurt anyone. These people had been good to her, looked after her, and lying felt like a poor way to repay them. She couldn’t bring herself to do it though. She wanted to do good with this power, help people, and none of the adults in this room would be morally agreeable to a fifteen-year-old doing what she did. Especially not Joe, she wasn’t convinced he would let her even if she was an adult. He had certainly been vehemently opposed to either her or Iris being cops, forensics was the closest he would allow.

Doctor Wells frowned as he watched the woman leave, before turning back toward his patient and her guardian. “Apologies. Doctor Snow has been somewhat on edge since the incident. I am afraid she lost her fiancé that night, the grief is still very near for her. He is… missed.” It was clear he was unwilling to divulge anything further on the topic. “Now, how about we figure out why this is happening to Ms Allen. Follow me.”

He manoeuvred his wheelchair out of the cortex where she’d woken up, continuing to talk in his usual measured manner. “From the instances you have described that have facilitated these dizzy spells, they appear to follow moments of physical exertion. Such as you jogging to your friend’s residence this morning.” Admittedly, she’d had to come up with some hopefully believable half-truths about what she’d been doing before getting woozy. “I had Cisco set up one of our treadmills with the necessary precautions so we can monitor your vitals as you run.”

The deep voice of Detective West cut in, sounding a trifle concerned, “is that safe? What if she passes out again?”

“She very well might, that is what the precautions are for. Unfortunately, we cannot understand exactly what is happening to Ms. Allen if we do not observe it in a controlled environment.” Joe did not look reassured.

The two of them followed Doctor Wells into a room where Cisco was applying the last bit of duct tape to a wall of cardboard boxes, a spongy looking crash mat broached the gap between the boxes and a high-tech looking treadmill. The teen looked up from his work, flashing Beatrice a goofy grin she found surprisingly reassuring, as Joe and Wells made their way into the viewing room where they would monitor her from. Caitlin was already sat, staring fixedly at the monitor in front of her, apparently still a little high strung from her earlier tirade.

Cisco clapped her on the shoulder as she stared a little sceptically at the box wall. “A little padding, just in case.” He assured her in answer to her unasked question, he leaned in and spoke lowly to avoid being overheard. “Try not to go full Usain Bolt, yeah. After your earlier fainting episode going a little above average should be enough to highlight the issue without outing yourself.” With one last pat he made his way into the adjoining room to join the others.

Reluctantly she situated herself on the treadmill, she didn’t particularly want to collapse again.

“Whenever you’re ready.” She heard the steady voice of Wells through the speakers. Beatrice began with a slow jog, building up into a steady run, consciously maintaining a speed only a little faster than she’d been able to maintain before the accident.

Joe watched apprehensively as he kept his eyes on the girl he considered a second daughter, listening carefully to the observations of the scientists.

“Heart rate, blood pressure, nerve conduction, all within normal limits.” Caitlin listed, “brainwave function, also normal.”

Doctor Wells sighed as he had an epiphany, “Caitlin, look at the glucose levels.”

The ginger woman gasped. “Oh my god. Of course. It should have been obvious,” she lamented.

The dark-haired scientist pushed down the speaker button to talk to the teenager, “Ms. Allen, we think we know why you keep- “

He was interrupted as the young girl suddenly keeled over, the force of the treadmill pushing her off and into the box wall in a shower of packing peanuts.

“-passing out.” He finished lamely.

A few minutes later Beatrice came to back in the hospital bed, Joe, immediately upon noticing her return to the waking world helped her into a sitting position. “I passed out again?” she asked groggily, rubbing her head.

Caitlin nodded, “total metabolic failure brought on by acute hypoglycaemia.”

The teen took a moment to process this, “I’m not eating enough?”

“Precisely,” Caitlin agreed, “you drained _nine_ IV bags while you were out.”

“Guess you were thirsty,” Doctor wells joked, smirking in amusement.

Joe did not look quite so entertained, “and what does that mean exactly? For my kid. In English if you don’t mind.”

The ginger woman focused on Joe, tone deliberately calm as she explained. “It seems that the high-level of cell activity is having more physiological impacts than we initially anticipated. Which is likely why she needed so many IV bags. We’re going to have to fashion her a new diet based on her metabolic changes. Cisco and I, will work together to synthesise some high calorie protein bars to replace the energy her cells are burning off. This is completely manageable,” she assured kindly.

The dark-skinned man exhaled in relief, “good, thank you.” He threw an arm around Beatrice’s shoulders in a fatherly gesture, squeezing her into his side affectionately. This was fine, they could handle this. A crazy new appetite was not the worst result of being struck by lightning after all.


	6. Between The Lines Of Red And Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Clyde Mardon plot is drawn from The Flash TV Show, with a few tweaks to fit Beatrice's situation. No Pete this chapter though, so sad times.

_I've been stumbling around between the lines of red and blue_  
_I was colouring thoughts for the sake of finding truth_  
 _Was following rules, counting all of my good deeds, oh_  
 _Living in fear, hell at my feet, heaven is out of reach_  
\- Help Our Souls by Nihils

___________________

 

The skies of New York were charcoal grey with the promise of rain, and the air was damp and heavy, almost cloying. Iris had insisted that she needed to chase up a lead for her latest blog post, and Beatrice had been adamant that she would accompany her once she heard where she was going. Beatrice’s admittedly thus far short stint fighting crime had taught her that this wasn’t one of the safest parts of Queens, not the worst, but not great.

Her concerns were proved well founded when a sleek black car came veering dangerously around the corner of the block, burning rubber as the tyres protested to their treatment. The vehicle was closely pursued by several police cars, the sound of sirens painfully assaulting their ears.

It quickly became clear that the cops had been caught out by the speed they’d had to take the corner; the driver was unable to control the trajectory of their car and it was evident that if they didn’t move the two girls were going to come off worst in the collision. In a blind panic the redhead tackled Iris behind a nearby concrete flowerbed, hoping it would be sturdy enough to shield them from the crash. Beatrice covered Iris with her own body, protecting her from the shower of glass that flew over the top of their makeshift barrier, following the groan of metal as it crumpled under the force of the impact.

She looked up catching sight of the car they were pursuing still hurtling dangerously down the street, forcing traffic to frantically swerve out of the way to avoid a head on collision. She knew she had to do something, at the rate they were going somebody was going to end up maimed, or worse, dead. The police cars had formed a tangled pile up, they wouldn’t be able to give chase anymore, if she didn’t intervene, the criminal would get away scot-free.

In a matter of seconds, she’d donned her scarlet suit, grateful that she’d taken to storing it in the lining of her backpack. She tucked her belongings safely nearby and took off after the speeding vehicle.

“This is a terrible idea,” she muttered to herself, as she considered her only idea, but despite her superspeed she really didn’t have enough time to come up with anything more viable. Resigned to her half-baked plan, she launched herself through the passenger window only to freeze in shock.

Clyde Mardon.

She’d been processing some of the evidence for his case the day she’d been struck by lightning. He’d robbed a bank with his brother, shooting someone as they’d left. She hadn’t been allowed to see that portion of the scene, but she’d helped identify the get-away car using a tyre track on the pavement outside. She remembered it vividly. Rear super-wide tyre, twelve inches with an asymmetrical tread, made specifically for a Mustang Shelby GT500. They had also analysed some organic matter left behind by the wheels, animal faeces with traces of oxytetracycline, used in the feed of only four nearby farms. She had been particularly proud of that solve, as when Joe and his partner had checked out the last of those farms a little west of the city they’d found the brothers and the matching car. Unfortunately, the confrontation was not without casualties. The brothers had almost escaped via a small crop duster plane, after fatally shooting Joe’s partner Chyre. A good man, who had left behind a mourning family. She had thought the brothers had also lost their lives that day, when their small plane was brought down by the particle accelerators shockwave. Clyde Mardon was supposed to be dead.

Mardon’s expression contorted into a snarl, eyes blazing in fury, as he reached for the handle of a pistol haphazardly tucked into his jeans. Before he could point the offensive weapon at her, Beatrice grabbed the side of the steering wheel closest to her and used all her strength to yank it to the right. An action she dearly regretted, she was equally as caught off guard as Mardon as the car turned far too quickly. The momentum it had already gained caused it to flip, they were both aggressively jostled around in the small space, there was a brief moment of weightlessness before they met the tarmac. The impact sent pain coursing through her body, she highly doubted she was coming out of this without an impressive array of bruises.

The roof scraped loudly against the asphalt, sending a shower of sparks across the surface of the road. Several cars honked in panic as they were forced to quickly manoeuvre out of the way of the wreckage of twisted metal. Beatrice felt the windscreen she had landed on give way under her weight, causing her to fall a short distance into a mess of shattered glass, grateful that her suit protected her from most of the damage. Though her body protested vehemently against it she dragged herself forward, bright blue eyes focused on the rugged blonde figure of Clyde as he stumbled away.

“Mardon!” she yelled, drawing his attention back to her as she shakily pushed herself to her feet.

He turned slowly, revealing a fresh cut across his cheekbone, his gaze predatory as he tilted his head in a manner which suggested he was deciding what would be the most entertaining way to play with his food. His lip curled up in a sadistic mockery of a smile, causing a chill to run up her spine. Beatrice could only watch in stunned horror as a dense fog seemed to swiftly pool around him, billowing out and enveloping the street in an impenetrable haze, concealing the retreating figure of Mardon.

Any desire she had to pursue him was quickly banished by the loud screech of tyres as someone desperately tried to brake, pressing their horn repeatedly in distress.

The fog hadn’t only aided the criminals escape, it had also hidden the mangled remains of his car, with disastrous consequences. Beatrice forced her legs to move her out of harm’s way as the second vehicle hit the first in a fiery explosion. The force sent it careening into the air in a deceptively graceful arc, until it landed roof first and screeched to a sickening halt.

Her heart stuttered, no one could have survived that. Her eyes burned and she could feel her throat tighten. _No,_ she couldn’t freak out now, not in her suit and out in the open. _Prioritise._ She needed to make sure Iris was uninjured and warn someone about Mardon. Then she could lose it.

__________________

 

Beatrice jogged back out of the dense expanse of fog, once again clad in her usual clothes, scarlet suit tucked safely away. She felt like she was on autopilot, strangely detached, as if she was only a passive witness to events happening to her. She had stuttered some excuse about trying to catch the car’s plates to Iris, after making sure she was alright, but she didn’t pay enough attention to whether or not she was convinced. The dark-skinned girl had started fretting when Beatrice had begun once more feeling dizzy, probably due to all the energy she’d used on a mostly empty stomach, she’d passed it off to Iris as the aftereffect of the adrenaline from being in a dangerous situation. Iris had bought it, but still forced her to sit down and wait until the police and paramedics arrived, they were witnesses after all and would have to explain what they could. The redhead was still trying to adjust to her new metabolism, she needed to remember to keep some of the high-calorie snack bars S.T.A.R Labs had provided in her backpack for situations just like this.

Time flew by as she numbly memorized the cracks in the concrete. Her head was clouded with images of the driver’s car colliding with the wreckage, the sinking feeling when she’d realised he couldn’t have survived. The events on a sickening cycle of repetition in her head. If only she’d been quicker, smarter, _better._ What kind of hero let the bad guy get away, and got someone killed in the process. Not that her success would have been worth the loss of an innocent life.

She was unsure how much time had passed by the time Joe arrived with a number of other officers, his forehead wrinkled with concern and dark-eyes immediately zeroing in on their hunched figures. He scanned them both for injury, relieved to see they were both whole. In long determined strides he moved across the scene to pull them into a fatherly hug, needing physical confirmation they were both here and with him. _Safe._ He moved back to stare at them both sternly, “what have I told you about coming to places like this. This is not a safe neighbourhood. It’s dangerous. You could have been hurt or worse.” His tone was fierce in his worry.

“We’re ok, Dad.” Iris attempted to reassure him.

Joe did not relent, “I told you both, when you see danger, you run the other way. You’re not cops!”

Beatrice stared blankly at the black body bag on the gurney the paramedics were wheeling away, stomach cramping in nausea. “Joe, I need to talk to you.”

He frowned at her, “it can wait.”

“No. It can’t. I think I know who did this,” the redhead rebuffed, eyes pleading.

He glared at her, nostrils flaring in his anger, brows raised expectantly. His tense shoulders and folded arms a clear message that his patience was wearing thin, and this better be good.

“It’s Clyde Mardon.”

Joe sighed, “it _can’t_ be Mardon. I saw him die the night of the explosion, him and his brother.” He placed his large hands on her slim shoulders, eyes boring into hers earnestly. “I watched their plane go down in flames, there wasn’t even enough of it to left to salvage. I am telling you, they could not have survived that.”

She ran her hand through her windswept locks, “I know it sounds crazy Joe, but I think something happened to him that night. I think he can control the weather.” She watched forlornly as Joe’s patience finally snapped, and made a last-ditch effort to convince him. “Please Joe, everyone saw that fog roll in. It wasn’t natural,” her attempts were futile. “Of course, you don’t believe me, no one ever believes me.”

His jaw tensed, and his grip on her shoulders increased in strength as he struggled to remain calm. “Okay, you wannna do this now? Out here. _Fine._ Mardon is dead. There is no ‘controlling the weather’. Just like there was no lightning in your house that night.” Beatrice watched in muted horror as five years of frustration boiled to the surface. “It was your brain helping a scared little girl accept what she saw.”

She paled, tears of humiliation and hurt welling in her eyes against her wishes. “My Dad did not murder my- “

“Yes, he did! Your dad killed your mother, Bea. I am sorry, sweetheart. But I knew it, the jury knew it. Now he’s paying for what he did.”

“Dad, enough.” Iris attempted to intervene, watching distraught as Beatrice’s stoic expression had crumbled under the strain of his words.

Joe was not so easily pacified, “no, Iris.” He addressed his daughter before focusing again on Beatrice. “I have done my best to take care of you since that night, and I have never asked for anything in return. Not even a thank you. But what I do ask now, is that you for once in your life see things as they are.”

The mortified girl held his gaze for a moment, until her vision blurred and she shoved past him, “I’ll see you at home later,” she tossed dismissively over her shoulder. Relieved when her voice held steady, as she felt the scene.

Joe watched helplessly as she left, ignoring all of his and Iris’ attempts to call her back. He exhaled despondently, running a tired hand down his face, he hadn’t meant to snap. The intense worry combined with the long years of her refusing to accept the truth had worn him down, the stress of finding out his girls had been near something so dangerous had been the final straw.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed his most recent partner approaching him. Eddie Thawne, or ‘Detective Pretty-boy’ as Joe had mentally dubbed him. By all accounts a good cop, but a little self-absorbed, he was handsome and he sure as hell knew it. As the young blond man approached, he held out a piece of paper with a sketch of a male face.

“You’re not going to believe this. We got the eye witness sketch of the robber from the recent bank jobs, and a couple of the people here recognised him as well. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was Clyde Mardon.” Eddie stated, holding Mardon’s mugshot alongside the drawing for comparison. The resemblance was uncanny. “But that’s impossible. He’s dead, right?”

Joe sighed heavily, glancing between the picture and Beatrice’s retreating form. Today was not his day.

___________________

 

Beatrice arrived once again at the warehouse she and Cisco had begun frequenting since her accident, it proved a useful location for discussing stuff they didn’t want others overhearing. It had taken her over half an hour to calm down enough to ring Cisco and organise a meeting, she was reluctant to say too much over the phone. Probably paranoid on her part, but at this point she’d rather be safe than sorry.

The scent of rust and damp was becoming disconcertingly familiar, and the rain that had hung heavily in the air earlier that day was finally making an appearance. The gentle beat of raindrops against the metal of the corrugated roof was somewhat soothing after her trying day.

As she moved into the building, she munched on one of the snack bars she’d been prescribed, not the most exciting snack but definitely necessary to replace all the energy she’d lost. They were already becoming a staple in her diet, and even then, Joe was left baffled by how much she could put away at a regular mealtime. Especially when she out ate him and he’d find her upstairs around two hours later mid-study session surrounded by multiple empty donut boxes.

Cisco was already perched on one of the many miscellaneous crates, sporting one of his usual video game reference shirts and an apprehensive expression. The ‘Aperture Laboratories’ shirt looked far more at home on him than the expression, which was a heavy contrast to his standard excitable attitude.

“Cisco,” she greeted, catching his attention. “Look, I’m just going to get straight to it. I don’t think I was the only one affected by the particle accelerator explosion that night.”

The dark-haired teen shuffled awkwardly in place, tugging at the sleeve of his shirt.

“You don’t look surprised, why don’t you look surprised?” Beatrice demanded, a little displeased by his response, or lack thereof.

“We had our… suspicions.” Cisco began reluctantly. “Truth is, we don’t know for sure how much damage the explosion really caused.”

Beatrice was seething, “You don’t know? Doctor Wells has been assuring the public for week _s_ that there was no residual danger, and now apparently he’s been… _lying_ the whole time.” She felt irrationally betrayed. Wells had been a hero of hers for years. The explosion was unfortunate, but accidents happened, in this case horrifically bad accidents but unintentional all the same. But, to lie about it, to put innocent people in danger. Why would he do that? She closed her eyes for a moment, inhaling in an effort to restore her patience. It wasn’t fair to take this out on Cisco, he was only an intern. He wasn’t responsible for this. “So, what really happened that night?” she asked, tone far more measured.

“Doctor Wells could probably explain it better, but I’ll give it a shot. At first, everything was fine, it switched on and we were all celebrating, then _funky_ stuff started happening.” His expression turned distant as he was momentarily lost in his recollection. “Everyone started hugging and congratulating each other, and Doctor Wells decided to pop open a bottle of champagne, you know, to mark the occasion. But, when he did it just sort of started… floating… straight out of the bottle. Like gravity had taken a sudden vacation. We were all transfixed, it didn’t occur to anyone it meant something had gone wrong, until the alarms started going off. Then all hell broke loose.” He shook his head to bring himself back to the present. “From what I remember of Doctor Wells’ explanation after, he said the ‘dimensional barrier ruptured’. I don’t know exactly what that means, but it released a bunch of unknown energies into our world. Like, er- antimatter, dark energy, x-elements- “

Beatrice interrupted in disbelief, “aren’t those all theoretical.”

Cisco smiled wryly at her, “and how theoretical are you? Caitlin and Doctor Wells spent a lot of time after that trying to map the dispersal of the energy throughout New York. But even then, they have no way of knowing who or what could have been exposed. Also, considering they don’t even know what happened to you, they have no idea what to look for to establish that. I’m not even sure there is a reliable way to identify a meta-human except for a butt-load of tests.”

“Meta-human?” she asked curiously.

Cisco flushed slightly, “well I figured I needed a name for what happened to you, I mean you’re not fully human any more are you.” He paused, suddenly hearing his own words and how insensitive they sounded. “Not that you’re not human, you are! Just, like, human with some extra. Different. Good Different!”

Beatrice laughed a little despite the sombre mood as she watched him flounder, “stop, Cisco. It’s fine. Back to the point, I saw one of them today, another… Meta-human.” The word felt strange on her tongue, especially using it to indirectly refer to herself. “He’s a bank robber, and he can control the weather.”

The olive-skinned teens face lit up with childish excitement, “this just keeps getting cooler!”

She glared fiercely. “This is not cool. All right. A man died.” Beatrice reprimanded a little harsher than she meant to, she still felt responsible. His death was on her, her incompetence had cost him and she had to live with that. She tucked a fiery lock of hair behind her ear a little guiltily as she saw him pale. “He’s called Mardon, him and his brother were both supposed to be dead. But he’s out there and he has powers. This isn’t your fault, I know no one meant for this to happen, but we have to stop him. Before he hurts anyone else.”

The older teen nodded, filled with steely determination, “give me a few hours. I think I can run a programme to track meteorological anomalies. If he can control the weather I should be able to get it to register any sudden drops in atmospheric pressure he causes.”

The redhead smiled gratefully at him, “let’s do it.”

___________________

 

It hadn’t taken long for Mardon to make his presence known again, later that same evening Cisco rang with the news they’d had a hit. His programme had picked up a drop in atmospheric pressure by twenty millibars in a matter of seconds. It had to be him.

Which was how she found herself approaching a dilapidated barn a little west of the outskirts of the city, the place Joe said the Mardons had last hid out. It made sense he’d return to a place he was familiar, though it probably wasn’t the smartest move. He was either arrogant, stupid, or a potentially devastating combination of both.

Beatrice froze briefly as she watched the wind pick up, the shoddy shingles of the roof trembling under the onslaught. Then in show of power that chilled her to the bone, the roof exploded showering the surrounding field in shattered planks of wood and broken timber. Large portions of the barn were caught in the huge vortex that emerged from the decimated shell of the building. As the maelstrom formed she noticed two figures emerging from the wreckage, one figure supporting a slightly smaller heavily injured companion. The two-people collapsed against the side of a parked police car, unable to move any further. Unintentionally placing themselves in danger again in their attempts to escape it, a heavy looking chunk of the roof was being propelled by the vortex as it moved through the wall and away from the barn. The mass of beams and shingles was going to hit them.

Instinctively she moved in a desperate burst of speed, physically tackling the structure away from the two hunched individuals. The unnatural movement of the funnel of wind made it quite clear where Mardon was. Cocooned within as he forged a path towards the city, ready to leave devastation in his wake.

Her communicator fizzled to life with Cisco’s urgent voice, “Bea, Bea, this thing’s getting closer. Wind speeds are two-hundred miles per hour and increasing. Beatrice, can you hear me?”

“Yeah, loud and clear.” She responded, still transfixed by Clyde’s power, far beyond the mere blanket of fog he’d created earlier.

“If this keeps up, this could be an F-5 tornado.” Beatrice could hear his panic.

“And it’s heading towards the city. How do I stop it?” Even as she asked, her mind was reeling trying to form a viable solution. “What if I unravel it?”

“How are you gonna do that?” Cisco’s confusion was palpable.

“I’ll run around it in the opposite direction. Cut off its legs,” she said with more confidence than she felt, it was the only idea she had.

“You’d need to clock seven-hundred miles per hour to do that,” he informed her, alarmed, “what if you can’t handle those speeds. You’ll die.”

Beatrice swallowed the lump in her throat, “I have to try.” She owed this to the man who’d lost his life today, to the people she couldn’t save, and to those whose safety Mardon was threatening now. She squared her shoulders, nodding to herself as she drew in a few steady breaths before throwing herself into her task, circling the vortex as fast as she could.

Cisco watched the display on his screen, keeping a vigilant eye on her vitals, hands clenched together in anxiety. “She can do this, I know she can,” he whispered to himself to assuage his doubts.

A sudden gust of wind sent her careening away from Mardon and flying across the grass. She clenched her teeth in pain, forcing herself to ignore any discomfort as she pushed herself to her feet. “It’s too strong,” he lamented, staring helplessly as the funnel of wind only seemed to increase in intensity.

“You can do this, Beatrice. You _can_ stop this. Run, Beatrice, run!” The fervent belief and steel in Cisco’s tone spurred her once more to action. There was no one here to stop this, no one except her. She needed to be strong, she had to try.

Faster than she’d ever gone before, she took off in a blur of scarlet wreathed in yellow lightning. She moved with more speed than Clyde could keep up with, rendering his plan of pushing her off course with another blast of wind futile. She wouldn’t let him stop her again. Beatrice kept pushing herself even as her lungs burned, and the dust stung her eyes.

Then, just as she began to wonder if she could keep this up, she suddenly found herself weightless. Air currents swirled around her, and the constant pressure evaporated. There was a hollow crack of displaced air, and she found herself lying on her stomach, once more several feet away. She panted heavily as she rose to her knees. Caught between pride and disbelief.

“Hey,” a gravelly voice demanded from behind her. She spun around coming face to face with the dishevelled form of Clyde Mardon looming over her. Features twisted into a dark expression of bitterness and anger.

He shakily lifted the gun he’d previously been holding in a lax grip at his side, pointing it directly at her chest. Her heart began to race at the clear threat. He tilted his head in curiosity, “I didn’t think there was any one else like me.”

The redhead almost recoiled at the insinuation, revulsion coursing through her, “I’m not like you. You’ve murdered people.”

Her breath caught in her throat as he snarled, straightening his arm in preparation, finger flexing against the trigger. Two gunshots cut through the tense silence, the sharp sound ringing in her ears.

For a moment she was numb, staring blankly at the rugged blond. Then Mardon crumpled into a boneless heap on the yellowed grass. Her brain hardly comprehended that the sound had emanated from behind her, she had forgotten the two men who had stumbled from the barn.

“Beatrice?” Cisco asked uncertainly, he’d clearly heard the shots and grown concerned by her lack of response.

The teen lurched to her feet unsteadily, eyes landing on the man whose gun was still held aloft. “It’s over, I’m okay,” she reassured Cisco a little robotically as the man holstered his gun and started jogging towards her. Over her earpiece she heard a relieved sigh, a beat of silence and then an enthusiastic whoop of celebration.

She didn’t feel quite so enthused as the man approached, revealing the all too familiar figure of Joe West as he drew to a halt a short distance away. Her heart hammered in her chest, as she wondered if everything was going to crumble around her.

But the horrified shout never came. With great relief she realised in the darkened setting with her hood concealing the upper half of her face, he did not recognise her. She gave him a single steady nod in gratitude, unwilling to test her luck any further than that, and decided to make herself scarce.

The events of the day had shaken her, she needed to talk to someone, someone who understood her. Even if she couldn’t divulge the true nature of her worries.

_____________________

 

Iron Heights never changed, years passed and time refused to touch it. She had visited so many times in the past half a decade, that most of the guards knew her by name. Half of them no longer bothered asking who she was visiting, they just smiled at her in what they probably intended as sympathy, but came off more as pity.

She sat down in front of the glass partition in the depressingly grey room, hand already unhooking the black plastic receiver in preparation. She watched with a gentle smile as the guards escorted in a broad-shouldered man. His hair was the colour of wheat and cropped close to his head, his stern jaw crowned with rough stubble. He presented a rather intimidating figure, but his eyes, his eyes were soft with warmth and kindness. Beatrice looked a lot like her mother, but she shared her father’s bright blue eyes. No matter how many weary lines the long days in prison carved into his face, the fatherly affection he regarded her with never waned.

Her eyes welled with tears as she heard his deep voice through the receiver, “hey, Slugger.”

Beatrice huffed in amusement as his lips curved into a fond smile, “you’ve been calling me that since I was eleven.” Henry Allen chuckled as he listened to his daughter. “Funny thing is I finally got into a fight today.”

He lifted a single incredulous eyebrow, “you just got out of a coma, I’m not sure you should be picking fights.” Her heart warmed at his concern, glancing away slightly in guilt at her father’s reprimand. “Hey, did you win?” he asked, she looked up to see his eyes sparkling with humour.

They both laughed. “Yeah, I did,” she responded, a little proud. Henry chuckled again, watching as her expression sobered and she clenched the receiver tightly. “You didn’t kill Mom. You know I know that, right?” Beatrice told him earnestly, voice thick with tears.

“You believing me, is all I need.” He assured her, touched by her declaration.

She held his gaze as she continued, “one day I’m going to prove it. I will find a way to get you out of here, ok?”

“Bea, we’ve talked about this. It’s time to let it go. You’ve got to stop worrying about me, and live your life.”

Beatrice’s lips curved into a small smile, “for the first time, I feel like I finally can. The truth is, ever since the night Mom died I’ve been stuck in one place, missed out on a lot of things. But I’m different now. The people I’ve met since then, they’re helping me find my way. To finally move forward.” She thought fondly about Peter, Ned and Cisco, who had all supported her in different but equally important ways. The two Wests who had taken her in and made her welcome in their small family. “You remember when you wanted me to change my name… so I wouldn’t have to deal with people knowing you’re my dad?” Henry watched sadly as tears rolled down his daughter’s pale cheeks. “I’m glad they know. I am so _proud_ to be your daughter.”

He felt his eyes sting a little, a lump rising in his throat, “I love you, little Bea.”

“I love you too, Dad.”


	7. Stressed Out

_Wish we could turn back time,_  
_to the good old days_  
_When our momma sang us to sleep_  
_but now we’re stressed out_  
\- Stressed Out by Twenty One Pilots

______________

Getting back into the swing of school had been daunting at first, the student population had evidently decided that her extended coma had been a death sentence. The way they whispered when she passed in the hall made her feel like the dead risen again, and Beatrice quickly got sick of being known as the ‘coma-kid’. She felt like the second coming of the messiah, it was ridiculous. She’d lost count of the number of people who she’d never met coming up to her and pretending to be concerned, only to ask what it’d been like to die seconds later. Beatrice had taken to coming up with wild stories just to make the situation more bearable, she’d told a slack jawed group of freshmen that she’d experienced a bright light and heard the dulcet tones of Morgan Freeman. It was pretty impressive what impressionable teenagers would believe.

Even the sincere well wishes of her teachers had started to grate on her nerves. Ned and Peter had done their best to distract her, but Peter had seemed oddly distant lately, disappearing quickly after school let out with some half-baked excuse. He often cited his internship or his Aunt as a reason, but never seemed to be able to say what exactly he’d be doing there. Frankly, Peter was a terrible liar. But Beatrice and Ned had decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, whatever he was doing, he’d tell them when he was ready.

Iris had been a helpful buffer at first too, her natural charm served as an effective tool to divert some of the less belligerent students. However, their separate friend groups along with Iris’ obligations regarding planning Homecoming with Liz meant she couldn’t spare a lot of time.

Fortuitously, her evenings spent as a highspeed crime fighter were a good way of venting her frustration and pent up annoyance. Part of the reason she’d decided not to badger Peter about his poor excuses was because her own story of hanging out with Cisco was probably starting to wear a little thin. Don’t throw stones in glass houses and all that.

Beatrice shouldered her backpack and closed her locker door, taking a moment to bolster herself for what would surely be another trying day. She set off down the corridor at a light jog spotting the retreating forms of her best friends making their way to class, she caught the tail end of Ned’s comment as she approached them.

“-always got that internship,” he muttered forlornly. She felt a little bad for him, he just wanted to hang out with his friends but both she and Peter more often than not had to cancel on him.

She threw her arms over each of their shoulders, exuberantly inserting herself between them and seamlessly into the conversation. Completely missing Peter’s flustered blush as she took in Ned’s disappointed expression. “Is he blowing you off for the great Tony Stark again?” she asked the shorter boy.

“Hey,” Peter objected, before looking past Beatrice to Ned, “I know it seems like a lot, but hopefully it’ll lead to a job.”

Ned nodded, though he was noticeably less enthusiastic than usual, “that’d be so sweet, and then he’d be all ‘good job on those spreadsheets Peter. Here’s a gold coin.’… I don’t know how jobs work.” He shrugged at them both sheepishly.

Beatrice laughed merrily as Peter responded, “that’s exactly how they work.” Both boys quickly joined their friend in her amusement, chuckling at the notion.

The redhead dropped her arms back to her sides as she caught sight of the time on one of the hallway clocks, “crap guys, I gotta run if I want to be on time for my first class. I’ll see you at lunch though!” She spoke the last part as she walked backwards down the corridor, shooting them a bright grin and a jaunty wave.

Peter watched her leave, a goofy smile on his face as she pivoted on her heel, he was mesmerised by the gently swing of her crimson locks swinging behind her as she disappeared around the corner. A small part of him was vaguely aware that Ned was still talking, but all he registered was something about LEGO and coming over. His brain couldn’t seem to comprehend the details as he felt his heart speed up and his breath catch in his throat, an increasingly familiar sensation around Beatrice. “That’d be great,” he found himself muttering in response, far too preoccupied to give much thought to what he was agreeing to.  
  
__________________

 

Ned was acting weird. Weirder than usual anyway, he’d been so excited about his and Peter’s plans to finish building his LEGO Death Star yesterday, yet today he didn’t seem to care. He had supposedly gone around to Peter’s last night, but when she’d asked him about how much they’d got done he’d just replied that he’d dropped it and hadn’t even appeared upset. Which was very unlike him, he’d once knocked over a LEGO Tie Fighter model and bemoaned the event for several days.

He had been incessantly whispering to Peter all day, and she’d watched curiously as Peter had become progressively more frustrated. She might have intervened and tried to spare him the onslaught, but frankly she was a little peeved that there was something that had gotten Ned excited that they weren’t sharing with her. By the time lunch had come around Peter had resigned himself to the situation, though he’d seemed relieved that Ned had briefly let up around her. He was usually incredibly patient and understanding, and she was somewhat impressed Ned had managed to wear him down to a state of complete apathy.

Even now she could hear him whispering behind her as the teacher lectured the class about the Sokovia Accords in a monotone drawl that put half the class to sleep. Beatrice was sat beside Iris, this being one of the few classes they shared together, trying to pay attention to the lesson. The Accords was a subject she actually found interesting, especially as if she continued her ‘hero’ work the philosophical questions it raised may someday concern her. They seemed like a rather poor idea to her, but it was inevitable that some powerful organisation would try and bring a group like the Avengers to heel for their own personal use. She didn’t trust it, there was a place for politics and it wasn’t here, the agenda of an organisation shouldn’t decide who was or was not worth saving. There were so many ways that the agreement could be abused for petty power plays, or political gain. Though, she could on some level understand how these superhumans could make everyday people feel nervous, they had the potential to cause great amounts of damage.

Unfortunately, just as the teacher paused to take a breath, she caught the conclusion of Ned’s most recent tirade.

“-if I was you, I would stand on the edge of a building and shoot it as far as I could.”

Her brain stuttered for a moment as she struggled to process the poorly whispered comment, before she turned around, eyebrow raised. “What the fuck, guys?” she hissed incredulously, “actually you know what, I’m positive I don’t want to know.” She grimaced in disgust, as she whipped back around focusing again on the lecture.

A harried groan reached her ears, followed quickly by, “shut up, Ned.” Apparently, Peter had also reached his limit.

A curious part of her still wondered what they were talking about, but in all honesty, she had more important things to worry about at the moment. Cisco had rung her late last night about an ATM robbery on the news, ordinarily the situation wouldn’t have been noteworthy as the report said Spider-Man had dealt with it. But, in the process of the crime being committed, the bodega across the street had been annihilated. Destroyed didn’t seem like a strong enough word for the damage caused. People had reported seeing a powerful blast of energy from the site of the robbery, which had hit the shop causing the destruction. Now that was worrisome.

Cisco had said that the programme he’d used to track Mardon had caught some of the energy signature, and that it wasn’t like anything he’d ever seen before. Despite the lack of information, he’d managed to repurpose the programme to notify him of similar energy readings so they could figure out what caused it and hopefully put a stop to it.

By the time the last class of the day rolled around she was entirely fed up of the boys. It was impossible to hold a proper conversation with them when all Ned wanted to do was grill Peter. So, in gym, Beatrice chose to sit with Iris and her friend Liz Allan, who was a pretty and decent girl that she had never really spent much time with.

It felt almost like the whole world was dead-set on driving her mad today. After the pre-gym obligatory Captain America pep-talk video, because god forbid Coach actually teach his own class, she was stuck doing sit ups. She’d paired up with MJ, who had decided that an effective way of spotting her was sitting on her feet so she could keep reading her book.

Beatrice liked MJ, she was quiet, witty and always up for an intelligent debate. She didn’t pry and she wasn’t prone to gossiping, although you could be sure she knew most of what was going on in the school. Mostly because she enjoyed people watching or sketching those in crisis, which often led to her noticing things or overhearing conversations. MJ would have normally seemed like a welcome reprieve after being driven up the wall by her friends all day, but ever since her accident gym class had become a nightmare.

She was always worried she was going to accidentally out herself as a speed machine, or that people would notice how muscular and toned she’d become. She constantly had to keep track of how quickly she was completing an exercise, trying to make sure she wasn’t showing any truly noticeable improvement from her previous skill level. Therefore, she ended up spending all gym class not only focused on her performance, but intentionally messing up and pretending to find the class strenuous.

Today this issue was exacerbated by the fact she could _still_ hear Ned whispering to Peter, and the inane chatter of Iris and Liz’s friend group who were still sat on the bleachers where she’d left them when the class had started. Not that she disliked them, but she really couldn’t care less who Betty Brant wanted to ‘screw, marry or kill’ out of whatever latest permutation of the Avengers they’d come up with.

She sighed heavily as she heard someone toss Spider-Man into the mix, and wondered to herself how they hadn’t exhausted this topic already. Her pity-party was brought to a halt mid crunch when Ned seemed to fully lose whatever minimal ability he had to keep his mouth shut.

“Peter knows Spider-Man!”

The redhead let herself fall back down to the mat with a quiet thump as the whole gym froze, she stifled an exasperated groan as she threw an arm over her eyes. She didn’t want to witness this train wreck, there was no way this was going to go well, and being able to hear the whole thing was bad enough. Was it possible to spontaneously combust from intense second-hand embarrassment? Because it certainly felt like it at the moment.

“Er- ah- no, I don’t. No. I-I- mean-,” Beatrice heard her extremely articulate crush stutter.

“They’re friends,” Ned insisted.

Beatrice bemoaned the fact that Ned apparently had no self-preservation instincts, there was no way Flash Thompson was going to let this go now. They might have gotten away with only ‘knowing’ Spider-Man, but announcing their friendship was not going to go unnoticed. If Flash spotted an opportunity to humiliate Peter he was going to pounce like a starving animal. True to form he was quick to jump in, his snide voice echoing across the gym, “yeah, like Coach Wilson and Captain America are friends.” Scattered laughter erupted from the gathered students.

“I’ve met him, yeah. A couple times. But it’s, erm, through the Stark Internship.” Despite her refusal to witness the mess they’d gotten themselves into, she could practically see Peter ducking his head as he awkwardly scratched behind his ear. “Yeah, well, I’m really not supposed to talk about it,” he hissed the last part, probably trying to reprimand Ned.

The teen girl snorted quietly, if that was the case then he’d made a rookie mistake telling Ned then. He was well meaning, but a complete blabbermouth.

“Well that’s awesome,” Flash responded sarcastically, entirely unconvinced. “Hey, you know what? Maybe you should invite him to Liz’s party, right?”

“Yeah, I’m having people over tonight. You’re more than welcome to come,” Liz offered kindly. “Beatrice will be there, if that helps.” The girl in question silently cursed Liz, damnit why did she have to drag her into this, she’d only agreed to go because Iris had insisted. Once Iris had decided something, it was almost impossible to change her mind.

Peter’s voice increased in pitch as he spoke directly to Liz, “h-having a party?”

Beatrice felt a weight settle in her stomach. When she’d first met Peter he’d already been crushing on Liz. At first, she’d found it funny, but as she had gotten to know him better she’d developed her own feelings for him, and now it just hurt. Moments like this, when he floundered and stuttered while speaking to her, only supported her belief he still maintained his infatuation. Liz was so nice that the petty jealous part of her couldn’t even bring itself to begrudge her for it, in fact if it wasn’t for Peter she might have been similarly obsessed with her. Just as she had been with Lana Lang. Instead she was just left feeling that familiar hollow ache in her chest, and the sting of tears that she refused to shed.

“Yeah, it’s gonna be dope,” Thompson taunted, “you should totally invite your personal friend Spider-Man.”

“It’s okay, I know Peter’s way too busy for parties anyway, so…” Beatrice was somewhat taken aback by that comment, it was surprisingly antagonistic for Liz. Someone appeared to still be a little bitter that Peter had quit the Decathlon team.

“Come on, he’ll be there. Right, Parker?” Flash challenged one last time as the bell rung. Hallelujah, she was not hanging around any longer than she had to.

Peter turned to Ned as everyone including Beatrice swiftly left. “What are you doing?” he demanded, clearly annoyed with his friend.

“Helping you out,” the raven-haired teen defended, “Liz has a crush on you.”

Peter’s brow furrowed in confusion, “so? You know I haven’t liked her like that for ages.”

“Dude, you’re an Avenger. Even if you’re not into Liz anymore, if anyone of us has a chance with any girl of his choice, it’s you.  Besides, I believe Liz mentioned someone else that you _are_ interested in is going tonight.” Ned gave him one last pointed look before making his way out of the gym.

Peter sighed, wondering why high school had to be so hard, why couldn't he ever just catch a break. Feeling very sorry for himself he reluctantly followed his friend, thoughts heavy and conflicted.


	8. Insecurities

_I've got demons running round in my head_  
_And they feed on insecurities I have_  
 _Won't you lay your healing hands on my chest?_  
 _Let your ritual clean_  
\- Send Them Off! by Bastille

 _____________________

 

The sound of deep bass echoed across the residential street, which was softly lit by the warm yellow glow of artificial lights, the noise was slightly muffled inside May Parker’s car as she pulled up outside Liz’s rather large home. It was an imposing piece of modern architecture, formed of clean straight lines, straight grey masonry and swathes of glass. The impressive windows seemed to have been utilised in lieu of exterior walls in most places, leaving the gathered horde of teenagers in clear view from the street. Beatrice wasn’t sure she could ever be comfortable living somewhere that was so… exposed.

Iris had already gone ahead to help Liz set up, leaving school with aforementioned girl, so Beatrice had initially organised to be dropped off by Joe. She had hoped that when Joe had been called on to work a case, she’d be able to use it as a fortuitous excuse to skip the entire evening. Unfortunately, she’d already mentioned Ned and Peter were going, a rookie mistake. Subsequently, Joe had asked May to step in, and being the unfailingly kind woman she was, she had happily agreed.

Which was how Beatrice found herself sat next to Ned in the backseat, while they watched their other best friend have a minor meltdown as they approached the party.

“House party in the suburbs. Oh, I remember these, kind of jealous,” May nostalgically recalled, sounding wistful.

Ned was grinning from ear to ear, his dark eyes shining in excitement, “It’ll be a night to remember.”

May laughed, nodding in agreement, before turning to look at Ned. “Ned, some hats wear men. You wear that hat.”

“Yeah, it gives me confidence,” Ned admitted a little shyly, shrugging.

Beatrice clapped him on the shoulder in a friendly gesture of support. “You look great Ned, really,” she assured him with a kind smile, which Ned happily returned.

“This is a mistake… hey, let’s just go home,” Peter chimed in, voice laced with anxiety.

“Oh, Peter,” May looked at him gaze soft with understanding, “I know. I know it’s really hard… trying to fit in with all the changes your body is going through.” Beatrice struggled to maintain a neutral expression as she watched Peter flush a dark red, growing progressively more mortified. May continued, “It’s flowering now.”

The redhead could no longer resist, she leaned forward in the backseat so she could add her two cents. “It’s true May,” she nodded sagely at the older woman barely restraining a manic giggle, “I don’t think he’s quite realised it, but he’s just… blossomed!”

“I know,” May agreed, “and he’s so stressed out lately,” turning around slightly in her seat to confide in the other passengers.

“What helps with stress is going to a party. We should go to the party,” Ned insisted.

Peter caved, clearly eager to avoid any further discussion of puberty, especially between his Aunt and his crush. The floral metaphors didn’t make the conversation any less horrifically embarrassing, in fact it was quite possible they’d made the whole ordeal even worse. “Yeah, let’s do it. I’m gonna go,” he announced with determination, already moving to physically distance himself from the conversation.

They all piled out of the car, chorusing their gratitude and farewells to May. Beatrice took advantage of the boys slow dawdle to move ahead of them, surreptitiously patting her cross-body bag to reassure herself she’d safely stowed her suit in it. Probably a bit paranoid on her part, but she really didn’t want to get caught short without it.

She wandered into the house, ears immediately assaulted by the awful array of pop Flash Thompson had chosen. How difficult was it to pick decent music? He called himself a DJ after all, he ought to have more taste than this. Then again, Flash was all bravado and minimal substance, so this was pretty much par for the course. Beatrice had officially lost Ned and Peter now, so she chose to move towards the first friendly face she saw.

Weaving through the crowds of teens awkwardly milling about she made her way to MJ, who was making toast in the kitchen. Actually, now that she thought about it, she wouldn’t say no to a snack. The company would be good too, the chilled presence of MJ always made these events more bearable when Iris managed to drag her along. It wasn’t exactly that she disliked parties, she just found more enjoyment in smaller gatherings with people she knew.

She hopped up on the counter, settling comfortably next to the dark-skinned girl as they exchanged monosyllabic greetings. MJ held up the loaf of bread with a questioning brow, and Beatrice nodded with a grateful smile, before setting about perusing the topping options.

A few moments later found them both contently nibbling on toast, MJ’s simply buttered, while the redhead had snagged some fancy looking raspberry jam.

“I can’t believe you guys came here to this lame party,” MJ said by way of greeting as Ned and Peter finally arrived. Beatrice thought they’d definitely taken their sweet time.

“You’re here too,” Ned stated, looking as baffled by the girl as he usually did.

“Am I?” MJ challenged, before making her way out of the kitchen, toast in hand. Beatrice smirked at MJ’s finely-honed mysterious act, before she spied the approaching form of Liz and decided to also make herself scarce, she really didn’t want to be figuratively punched in the heart this evening.

The sound of Flash being a grade-A asshole resounded throughout the house, she winced, evidently Ned’s rather transparent plan of boosting their way up the high school food chain was tragically backfiring.

A short while passed while she occupied herself with people watching and generally feeling a bit sorry for herself, before she decided to make her way back to her friends to check up on how they were faring. She was somewhat confused when she found Ned alone.

“Where’s Peter?”

Ned turned to her abandoning his nervous scanning of the mass of party goers. “He probably went to meet Spider-Man, so he can, you know, find the party.” he shrugged a little awkwardly.

“Suuure,” Beatrice drawled disbelievingly. “Look Ned, is this really how you want to do this? Do you want to be friends with these people,” she gestured vaguely around her, “if it’s only because they want to get to know Spider-Man through you? Don’t you think that’s a little superficial?” He looked like he was about to argue his case, but the jaunty beep of Cisco calling cut him off.

“Is that the Kim Possible noise?” Ned asked, sounding amused, “that’s awesome, I loved that show!”

She laughed lightly, “yeah it is, it was a great show. I’ve got to take this though, it’s Cisco,” she excused herself as Ned nodded understandingly. She swiftly ducked through the throng of people, making her way outside so she could actually hear.

“Sup, Cisco,” she answered, leaning against one of the cold stone walls, looking out over patio. The garden was gently illuminated with small fairy lights, that danced along the reflection of the pools azure water. The tranquillity was a stark contrast to the revelry she’d just left behind.

“Hey, can I hear a party? Where was my invite?” he jokingly complained.

Beatrice sighed, rolling her eyes fondly at him, “yes, you can, and a crappy one at that. It’s just a high school thing, the music isn’t even good. I don’t particularly want to be here, so I think you dodged a bullet on this one.”

“Well, in future you should be aware that I am always up for a party. No matter how ‘crappy’. But never mind that now, you’ll be excited to know I’ve got a reason for you to skip out on your high school fun time. I got a ping from the programme, there’s been another blast of unknown energy not far from you. I’ll text you the location so you can check it out.”

“Sounds good, certainly a better prospect than watching Peter moon over Liz Allan,” she lamented a little bitterly, unable to stop herself from venting at least a little.

“Ooh, tough break, dude. Looks like New York’s scumbags have your back in matters of the heart then. I’ll keep in touch via the communicator,” he concluded, hanging up.

 _________________

 

Peter heaved a deep weary sigh, as he gazed down from his perch on the roof into the party through the skylight. Internally debating his plan to literally swing by as Spider-Man. Who was he kidding? He was supposed to be responsible, and here he was considering showing off his superhero alter ego like some cheap party trick. In no way could that be defined as responsible. Besides, Beatrice wasn’t just going to suddenly start liking him because he said he knew Spider-Man, right?

He would still be the same awkward, nerd, and she would be… her. Vivacious, beautiful and intelligent. There was so much about her he adored. Like the way she felt everything so deeply. When she laughed, she threw herself into it, head tilted back and hands clutching her ribs, like she couldn’t contain her own joy. He loved it when her eyes would sparkle when she thought of something particularly witty or amusing, how they’d shine with mirth. Or her nervous habit of running her hands through her hair, swiftly turning it into a fiery mess. He even appreciated how passionate she got when she was angry, often on behalf of someone she felt had been particularly wronged, fervently arguing her case. Though admittedly that sometimes got her into trouble, he thought fondly with a wry smile.

The teen wondered sometimes if it was even possible she would ever return his feelings, and that was what held him back from admitting them. If he did, and she rejected him, then he’d know for sure he didn’t stand a chance. There was a strange comfort in the ambiguity of his current situation. Best friends was good, he told himself, best friends was safe.

Peter was forcibly dragged out of his spiralling thoughts by the hollow rumble of a distant explosion, rolling through the air like the sound of swiftly approaching thunder. A cloud of neon blue energy bloomed ominously against the dark pitch of the night sky.

Well that certainly warranted investigating.

Thoroughly distracted from his teenage heartache he swiftly propelled himself in the direction of the strange phenomenon. He had not however expected to come across his greatest enemy in his career as a tight-wearing crime-fighter.

Suburban housing.

Everything was too far away! It was not conducive to swift travel, he lamented petulantly. Peter felt ridiculous decked out in full costume as he ran across the lush expanse of a golf course, he must have looked pathetic. Even a couple of street lights would have been a god send at this point, because this was the worst.

When he _finally_ arrived at the site of the blast, he quickly swung himself up to a high vantage point to attempt some stealthy reconnaissance. Peter watched with great interest as a dark-skinned bald man and a rather mouthy bearded dude spoke with what appeared to be a client. It was pretty clear from the bearded guys arrogant sales pitch that some kind of deal was going down. The teen’s eyes widened in shock as he noticed they were showing the interested party some extremely familiar high-tech weapons. “This must be where the ATM robbers got their stuff,” he quietly mused to himself. He’d found the dealers, now he could either intervene immediately or he could try and follow them and find out how big their operation really was.

Before he had time to properly consider his options the jarring sound of loud yodelling cut through the air with all tact of a stampeding rhino. For a moment he was intensely annoyed at whoever was responsible for potentially putting his operation at risk, then, cold comprehension swept over him as he realised the noise was _his_ phone. Ned was calling him.

He grimaced as he noticed that the disturbance had clearly escalated tensions below him, the dealers were now eyeing the buyer in suspicion, guns aimed in obvious threat. They thought they’d been set up.

His decision was made, screw biding his time, he couldn’t let some poor guy get shot, potential buyer of illegal weapons or otherwise.

He dropped down from his perch, throwing his hands up in a gesture he hoped conveyed he wasn’t here for a fight. “Hey! Hey, come on. You gonna shoot at somebody, shoot at me,” he drew their attention away from their target, putting aside his natural anxiety at the prospect of potentially being shot.

“Alright,” the tall bald man acquiesced, pointing his weapon at the masked hero, looking remarkably unruffled.

The muscles in Peter’s wrist tensed as he prepared to use his web shooter to disarm the surly criminal, when a burst of golden light and a flash of red in his peripheral vision stopped him. When the blur ceased its flurry of movement the previously hostile man was now both bewildered and disarmed, and a figure stood casually facing the criminals at such an angle that the teen couldn’t see their face.

The most he could ascertain was that the suit they donned was made out of what looked like dark red leather, accented with lines of gold reminiscent of stylized lightning. The nerd in him was geeking out, uncaring of how tense the situation was, he loved a well-designed super suit.

It looked to be both durable and streamline, which was probably important for someone who travelled at ridiculous speeds, form-fitting in a practical way without being indecent. Though he blushed a little as he noticed the new player was clearly of a female persuasion, at least physically, his poor hormonal teenage brain threatening to short circuit.

“C’mon now, guns aren’t toys,” she mocked, her voice oddly distorted causing her tease to sound strangely intimidating. She tutted with faux disappointment, “boys who can’t play nice, don’t get to play at all, so consider it confiscated on grounds of poor behaviour.”

The man in question began to edge his way towards the side of the van, sensing the deal had officially gone sour and that it was time to cut his losses. Peter ran towards him, intent on detaining him when he was suddenly brought to a stop as pain lanced across his chest. He grunted as his back thumped against the cold concrete of the underpass, the uncomfortable tingle of electricity thrumming across his torso as he fell face first into the dirt.

The woman quickly darted towards him, floundering awkwardly, seemingly unsure whether she should be concentrating on the criminals or trying to help him up. “Crap!” she exclaimed, voice still strangely distorted, “you ok? I wasn’t expecting ‘One Punch Man’ over there to lay you out!”

He groaned slightly as he climbed to his feet. “Oh, I’m fine. No worries lady, I’m pretty tough,” he tried to play off, despite the fact he was still clutching his chest and feeling pretty winded.

“Right,” she agreed, evidently unconvinced. She turned towards the sound of screeching tyres, “we should probably get after them then.”

In another crack of lightning she took off after the van easily keeping pace, trusting that Spider-Man was quite capable of pursuing on his own. Peter had no desire to leave her to face the thugs alone, and in a move he would later look back on with great embarrassment he quickly attached a web to the retreating bumper of the van.

It didn’t take long for the regret to hit him with about as much force as the garbage can he ploughed into as the van veered around a corner. He could feel every bump in the road as he was unceremoniously dragged along, desperately trying to cast another web-line to stabilise himself while simultaneously attempting to avoid any more head on collisions. As he rolled and tumbled he briefly caught a flash of golden lightning out of the corner of his eye, though he was far too preoccupied trying not to become a human bruise to pay much attention to it.

Relief washed through him as he finally managed to attach another web string to the vehicle, now able to pull himself into a position where he could actually take stock of the situation. He yelped in panic as he saw the bearded dealer kneeling in the doorway aiming one of the high-tech weapons directly at him, he felt very much like a fish in a barrel. It was not going to be easy to dodge a blast at such close range, Peter tensed his muscles focusing on being ready to at least attempt to swing out of harms way as soon as the guy started looking trigger happy.

Fortunately, at that moment the scarlet speedster chose to intervene, he felt a gust of displaced air rush past him as she appeared in the van roughly shoving the barrel of the weapon skyward. The potentially fatal blast meant for Peter tore through the roof of the van like a knife through butter, a smoking hole surrounded by twisted metal a testament to the weapons power.

The male teen watched as the woman began fighting with the man, swiftly dodging his clumsy attempts to dispose of her. Each time he swung his fist and only met air the snarl on his face became more and more pronounced until he was shaking with rage, cheeks ruddy and eyes narrowed in fury. Peter’s distraction cost him as a particularly poorly surfaced stretch of road reminded him that surfing the tarmac ass first was not advisable. “Oh, my butt!” he exclaimed, wincing at the sudden onslaught of pain.

Miss Fast-and-mysterious must have finally had enough of dodging as a deep male grunt reached Peter’s ears over the screech of tyres and he had to quickly dodge to evade the energy blaster as it rolled past him into a grassy verge.

He glanced back up, white eye coverings widening comically to mirror his own shocked expression, the beardy thug was now wearing the same strange contraption he’d managed to lay Peter out with. The metal knuckles of the device sparked ominously as the man drew his arm back and bared his teeth. In a single swift movement he caught the lithe woman in the side with a crack like a whip, her body careened out of the back of the van, catapulting towards him.

The air was forcefully evicted from his lungs as he unintentionally caught her, or more accurately served as her crash mat. His web lines snapped due to the prolonged strain and sudden force, causing the pair to tumble backwards in an uncoordinated tangle of limbs. The world became a spinning blur of colour as he instinctively clung to her, until they were painfully brought to a very sudden stop by a rather unforgiving mass of bricks.

Pushing himself to his feet and thus out of the ungainly mass pile they’d landed in, he watched the van disappear from sight with a huff of frustration. This was not how he’d thought this encounter would go down. Remembering his injured accomplice, he turned to assess the damage, the woman was already on her feet holding her ribs in such a way that suggested she’d certainly come out of that encounter a little worse for wear. “You ok, lady?” he asked, genuinely concerned.

“Yeah, just fine,” she winced a little, “or I will be. I heal just about as fast as I run,” she replied airily, which was an impressive feat considering she was still distorting her face and voice. The way she’d said it made it seem like she’d punctuated the comment with a cheeky wink to further reassure him, but her features were far too blurred to tell, even with his enhanced senses.

He forcefully shook his head to make himself focus back on the matter at hand, “great!” he frowned a little in thought. “Looks like we’re going to have to take a short cut if we’re going to make up the lost ground,” he said nodding towards the rows of gardens disappearing into the darkness.

She seemed to nod in agreement, “in that case, in the immortal words of Fred from Scooby Doo, ‘I think we better split up, gang.’ You cover the scenic route and I’ll follow the road and make sure we don’t lose track of Captain Zappy and the trigger-happy henchman,” with that she took off and he felt the increasingly familiar gust of wind and crackle of static.

“Awesome!” he breathed happily, before shaking himself out of his daze and beginning his own pursuit. Once more it was brought home to him how much he preferred fighting crime in the easily navigable gauntlet of the city, suburbs were just not built for swinging. By the time Peter managed to reach the road again he had managed to destroy a number of fences, a shed, several peoples’ evenings, and possibly given two young girls nightmares. He felt particularly guilty about that last one.

“Thought you’d got away from me didn’t ya! I got you right where I want you!” he crowed triumphantly as he ran across a rooftop overlooking the rather ragged looking van. He spied a blur of red and gold in hot pursuit.

He pushed himself to run faster, intending to get enough momentum to leap onto the roof of the speeding vehicle, he grinned as he pushed off, “surprise!”

His smug moment was dashed by the chilling feeling of cold metal talons digging into his skin as the ground quickly fell away, his heart raced with panic as he ascended against his will. “What the hell?” he struggled to look up to catch a glimpse of his abductor, all he could make out through the darkness was the impression of shadowy wings and two eerily glowing green eyes. He thrashed and kicked in terror, attempting desperately to escape the creatures grip, only half-aware of the urgent beeping coming from his suit. He struggled fervently, despite the fact that a fall from this height could very well be fatal.

A great swathe of material suddenly blossomed into his eyeline as his stomach lurched, pulling him backwards with an unpleasant yank, and away from his captor. Peter’s brain half registered surprise at the fact that his suit had a parachute before pure panic pushed any such thoughts aside. The stupid thing wasn’t working properly, it had deployed in such a manner that he’d fallen into it rendering it useless. He was now freefalling, tangled thoroughly in the billowing folds. Lights wheeled overhead at dizzying speeds as he was helplessly jostled by the wind. His breath came in swift, short bursts as he felt tears sting his eyes and terror choke him. He squeezed his eyes closed bracing himself for the inevitable bone-shattering impact.

Instead he felt a significantly less painful thump as he was caught against a soft torso by strong, slim arms. He heard a breathy “oomph” as the person in question absorbed some of his momentum. The relieved teen’s eyes flew open, and he inhaled with a shudder that travelled through his whole body. Peter heard the rush of wind fill his ears and felt the light spray of water as he caught sight of the city lights getting closer and closer.

Someone had… caught… him? He wasn’t dead? He could scarcely believe it. He glanced up to take in the appearance of the stranger, and the familiar blur of features was enough to tell him who he had to thank. As his residual panic receded it didn’t take him long to figure out he was being carried bridal style, though he was far too wired to be able to muster any embarrassment.

Now assured of his safety he took a moment to take in more than just the distant glimpse of the city, the world was moving past them in an abstract reflection of how he usually saw it. He turned to look down before suddenly lurching in fright, throwing his arms around the woman’s neck on reflex.

“Holy Crap! You’re running on water!” he yelled, equal parts amazed and horrified.

She quietly swore in annoyance, “don’t do that! If you keep struggling I’m going to end up freaking dropping you, you idiot!”

Thoroughly chastised, he immediately stilled, “sorry,” he mumbled sheepishly. “Thank you for er-, y’know, saving me…”

“Yeah well, I didn’t think you’d fare all that well when you hit the water, at that height it would have been like ploughing into concrete.” She paused, appearing awkward in the face of his gratitude. “So, er-, no problem, I guess. Would have put a dampener on the whole thing if our brief team-up ended with you going splat,” she joked stiffly.

Peter grimaced, she had a point, even with his powers he wasn’t convinced he could have taken a fall like that, and he wasn’t really willing to test it. Even if he had, it was likely he would’ve drowned before being able to extricate himself from the material of the parachute, though it appeared to have detached from his suit at some point during his rescue.

When they finally came to a halt, he found himself in a small children’s playpark, there was something oddly unsettling about such places at night, but after the evening they’d had he was hardly picky. The street lamps lit the area with a soft glow, washing out the bright colours of the paint on the play equipment, and the sound of nearby New York traffic was a balm on his slightly frayed nerves.

Peter shuffled awkwardly in place, gently kicking around some of the woodchips surrounding the climbing frame he was stood near. “Soooo… I guess we lost the bad guys then?”

The woman sighed, “unfortunately yes, but I’ve got a guy who’s trying to track them down again. We’ve been recording energy signatures matching the weapons. Hopefully the next time dumb and dumber emerge from whatever rock they’ve crawled under they won’t be so lucky.”

“What? You’ve got a crime fighting buddy?” he gasped in excitement, “that’s so cool!”

“Something like that,” she hedged.

“Ooh!” he exclaimed, unperturbed by her wariness, as another question he’d been meaning to ask occurred to him. “I’ve gotta ask, how do you do that face thing, and the cool thing with your voice? Do you have like a voice modulator in your suit?”

She laughed, and Peter would readily admit that now she was stood partially concealed by shadow but her voice still distorted, the effect was rather menacing. “It’s a perk of the superspeed, I move my face so fast it causes motion blur, the voice thing is similar. I’m vibrating my vocal chords, no device necessary.”

“Wow… awesome…” he blinked for a moment as he absorbed the information. “Wait, back to the super team thing.” He tried to look nonchalant, by leaning casually backwards into the climbing frame. Unfortunately, in classic Parker style he miscalculated the distance and sort of fell into it with a slight bang, his cheeks flared with colour as he heard her snigger. Embarrassed he quickly righted himself and coughed awkwardly, before ploughing on with his question, hoping she’d forget. “I was just thinking we, er-, we make a pretty good team. We could track these guys together, right? We don’t know much about their op’ or the big bird dude, so maybe we should, um, join forces?” he tried to keep the hopefulness out of his voice as he asked.

His reasons for doing so were more than just pragmatic, though he thought they really would stand a better chance if they worked together. Peter had never properly met someone who also had powers, and not only that, she was also trying to use them for good. He didn’t think he’d ever regret becoming Spider-Man, but he couldn’t deny it was sometimes a little isolating. The fact that Ned now knew helped somewhat, but it was still a far cry from someone who actually _understood._ How it felt to feel so different from everyone around you, having to lie constantly, keeping secrets from those you cared about. The struggle of pretending to be normal when you could bench-press a car.

He nervously rubbed the back of his neck as he watched her consider him carefully, trying to resist the urge to fidget even more. The tense moment was broken by the whirr of jet boosters approaching. He cursed internally, he’d know that sound anywhere.

The woman moved her head in the direction of the noise, before turning to look at him, “to be continued.” Then, before he could so much as blink, she was gone.

Peter huffed in disappointment, usually he’d be thrilled at such a seeing Mr. Stark, but this time he had absolutely terrible timing. With a practiced jump and flip he landed atop the climbing frame, lowering himself into a seated position to greet his sort-of mentor, legs swinging gaily back and forth. No matter how many times he saw the suit he was always a little awed by it. A gleaming technological marvel, shining red and gold in the artificial lights. Tony Stark was one of his greatest idols, initially because of his incredible intellect, but his more recent heroic deeds had cemented Peter’s admiration. He really wanted to make him proud.

“Hey, Mr Stark,” Peter chirped at the cold façade of the suit with a jaunty wave.

“Sup, kid,” a slightly tinny voice responded, “you mind telling me exactly what you’re doing out here?”

The teen launched into his explanation, completely unaware of Tony’s disapproval. “Well, I was at this party just, erm, minding my own business. But then I saw, like, this huge explosion. I couldn’t just do nothing, so I went to check it out. They had these weapons and they were selling them, but they got all jumpy and threatened the buyer,” he recounted, rattling off information at a ridiculous speed. “So, I had to step in, but then this lady showed up, and she was all… zoom! But the guys drove away so we had to follow them, and the lady was helping. Except we lost them and I had to take a shortcut, and I’d nearly caught up but then there was this guy with wings!” Peter gasped for breath, before immediately launching back into his tale, “and he just, swooped down like a monster and he picked me up, and took me like a thousand feet and just dropped me. How’d you find me? Did you put a tracker in my suit or something?”

“Uh- I put everything in your suit.” Tony replied measuredly, “including a heater. Which you apparently don’t need because somehow after falling ‘like a thousand feet’ directly above a large body of water you managed to avoid taking a leisurely dip. I’m guessing we have your _buddy_ Speedy Gonzales to thank for that? Actually, you know what, I have a more important question. What were you thinking?”

“The guy with the wings is the source of the weapons,” Peter stated earnestly gesturing towards the sky, “I gotta take him down!”

Tony scoffed, “take him down now, huh? Steady Crockett, there are people who handle this sort of thing.”

“The Avengers?”

“No, no, no. This is a little below their pay grade,” Tony refuted.

Peter frowned in confusion, these weapons could be a danger, surely this was exactly the sort of thing the Avengers dealt with. Even if it wasn’t a global threat, innocent people could be at risk. He tried to dismiss his negative thoughts, “anyway Mr Stark, you didn’t have to come out here. We had that, it was fine.”

“Oh, I’m not here.” Stark responded as the visor of the suit flipped open to reveal it was merely a hollow shell. Peter’s stomach twisted uncomfortably, a strange cocktail of embarrassment and hurt rolling over him. “Thank God this place has wi-fi,” he continued on oblivious, “or you could very well have been toast right now. Thank Ganesh as well while you’re at it. Cheers. Look, forget the flying vulture guy. Please.”

“Why?” the teen asked, tone somewhat surly.

“ _Why?_ Because I said so!” the billionaire shouted. “Sorry, I’m talking to a teenager,” Peter heard him address someone else in a softer tone, he couldn’t suppress the pained grimace that stole across his face upon realising that even now Tony didn’t seem to think the conversation deserved his undivided attention. “Stay close to the ground. Build up your game helping the little people, like that lady that bought you the churro. Can’t you just be a friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man?”

“But I’m ready for more now!”

“No, you’re not.”

“That’s not what you thought when I took on Captain America!”

“Trust me, kid. If Cap had wanted to lay you out, he would’ve.” The teen sighed heavily, glaring at the surrounding park as the lecture continued. “Listen to me, if you come across these weapons again, _call Happy.”_ Towards the end of his sentence the distinct sound of a revving engine drifted over the suit’s speakers.

“Are you driving?” Peter demanded incredulously, half hoping he was mistaken.

Tony ignored the question, “you know, it’s never too early to start thinking about college. I’ve got some pull at MIT. End call.”

“No, no! I don’t need to got to-“ the young hero attempted to assure him only to be interrupted by an emotionless female voice.

“ _Mr Stark is no longer connected.”_

Peter watched leadenly as the suit turned around and engaged its propulsion system, rapidly flying away in the direction of the Avengers tower, leaving him alone, deserted in the park. His shoulders hunched inwards as the weight of the world seemed to settle on his shoulders, he huffed quietly placing his head in his hands. What did college matter anyway when people he could help were in trouble? Didn’t Mr Stark see how much help he could be? Didn’t he care?

He groaned loudly as he realised he now had to make his way all the way back to Liz’s on foot. What he wouldn’t give for super speed right now.

The brunet trudged despondently back the way he’d been dragged and then flown, trying not to get too bogged down in his own tumultuous thoughts.

Peter was ambling through the cursed suburbs past a discarded children’s tricycle when an odd purple glow caught his eye. He darted over to it, too curious to be particularly cautious, bending down to examine it.

“Woah!” he exclaimed in awe, before he could muse further on his discovery the sound of his phone yodelling echoed through the still night. Ned.

“Hey man, what’s up? I’m on my way back,” he answered, while still staring down at the intriguing object with great interest.

“Actually, I was calling to say maybe you shouldn’t come. Listen to this,” the dejected voice of Ned instructed as the sound of multiple voices chanting ‘Penis Parker’ reached his ears. “Sorry, Peter. I guess we’re still losers. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Peter hung his head, as if tonight hadn’t already been a complete mess. “Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow at school,” he agreed before hanging up.

He tried to dismiss the matter as he reached down to retrieve the strange purple energy core. This would warrant some investigating, no matter what Mr Stark said.


	9. Pulling Me Down

_I keep on having this dream_  
 _Where I'm stuck in a hole and I can't get out_  
 _There's always something that's pulling me down, down, down_  
\- Same Old Blues by Phantogram

_______________________

The day after the disaster party Peter covertly smuggled the bizarre glowing stone into Midtown, wrapped in an old hoodie at the bottom of his latest backpack, which Ned had already bet wouldn’t last a week. He was fully intent on using school resources to try and figure out just what he was dealing with. Therefore, he was now in shop class, with the device clamped securely in a vice as he tried to hammer it free of its setting.

“Thanks for bailing on me,” he heard the dispirited voice of his male best friend pipe up from behind him.

“Yeah, well, something came up,” he nodded meaningfully towards his quarry. Watching as Ned’s eyes widened in wonder.

“Woah, what is that?” he gasped.

*I don’t know,” Peter grunted in exertion as he now tried to use a screwdriver to pry it loose, “some guy tried to vaporise me with it.”

“Seriously?” Ned asked, slightly stunned.

“Yeah, your favourite speedy myth gave me a helping hand.”

“Awesome!” the exuberant boy enthused, now practically buzzing with energy, all previous disappointment forgotten. “I mean not the vaporising bit, that was very uncool of that guy. But you met the streak! What’s he like? Is he badass?”

“He, is actually a she-“

“Whaaaaat? You’re kidding! What does she look like?” Peter grinned a little at his enthusiasm, he could always rely on Ned to make sure he knew how cool his life was right now. “No wait, more importantly, is _she_ badass? Like Black Widow?”

The taller boy shrugged, “I have no idea, we were a bit busy attempting to not become little piles of ash,” he chuckled. “Besides, she was doing this really cool thing with her face so it was all blurred, and she changed her voice, so I don’t even know what she sounds like.”

Ned sighed dreamily, “she sounds amazing… are you going to team up with her again?”

“I don’t know man, it’s not like I got her number, so I couldn’t even contact her if I wanted to. I guess I’ll just have to see if I bump into her again. Anyway, back on topic,” Peter brought his friends attention back to the luminous stone as he continued breaking off the prongs of metal that held it in place. “I think it’s some kind of power source.”

Ned considered the odd device, mind running a mile a minute, “yeah, but it’s connected to all these microprocessors. That’s an inductive charging plate,” he gestured towards a small mass of wires used to generate an electromagnetic field, “that’s what I use to charge my toothbrush.”

The pale teen frowned thoughtfully, “whoever’s making these weapons is combining alien tech with ours.”

The other boy suddenly looked a little starstruck, “that is literally the coolest sentence anyone has ever said. I just want to thank you for letting me part of your journey into this amazing-“ his heartfelt speech was abruptly cut off by Peter swinging the hammer down in frustration, finally knocking the stone free with a loud bang. Both boys flinched away as the sound echoed through the workshop, staring with bated breath at their shop teacher, waiting to be reprimanded.

Luckily, the man in question had no such reaction. “Keep your fingers away from the blades,” he drawled in monotone, unwilling to even glance away from the pages of his puzzle book.

They sighed in unison, overcome with relief, then turned back to the exposed stone. “We need to figure out what this is and who makes it,” Peter declared with finality.

Ned nodded in agreement, “we’ll go to the lab after class and run some tests.”

“Let’s do it,” the two friends sealed the deal with their familiar complex handshake, the one which usually made Beatrice roll her eyes but quirk a soft and fond little smile.

 ___________________

 

Beatrice was bored. There had been no further developments in regards to the strange energy weapons since the night she and Spider-Man had tried to apprehend the dealers. No strange readings or mysterious explosions. Running around stopping petty crime was all well and good, but there was only so much she could do without Joe and Iris becoming suspicious. Ned and Peter had both claimed to be busy, so she couldn’t bother them, and she wasn’t yet desperate enough to resort to doing her homework early. Though she was certainly close.

She lounged on the sofa, half watching old Friends re-runs when Joe jogged into the room, seemingly in quite the rush.

“I’m sorry kiddo but I’ve been called into work, apparently some idiots joyriding in a yellow Humvee. I shouldn’t be too long, but there’s some mac and cheese in the fridge if you get hungry, I’ll probably be back before Liz’s mom drops Iris off, okay?” he asked rhetorically, grabbing his keys from the table in the hall and shrugging on his blazer. “Try not to spend all evening watching TV, don’t think I don’t know you’ve got homework young lady,” he said. He looked at her sternly for a moment, before swooping down to place a kiss on her forehead and leaving the house.

The young teen remained still for a moment, blankly staring at the door as she listened to the sound of the engine turning and the slight screech of tyres as Joe hurriedly pulled out of the drive. The quiet rumble of studio audience laughter was the only sound for a moment, then a smirk slowly curved its way onto her face.

“Yes!” Beatrice cheered jumping up into a ridiculous looking happy dance, “finally something interesting!” she declared, her attention now firmly diverted towards aforementioned idiot in a yellow Humvee.

It didn’t take her long to find the source of all the commotion, Cisco had swiftly located the erratic path the Humvee had taken simply by following the string of concerned 911 calls and tapping into the police radio signals. Frankly the guy was a crime-fighting godsend, there was no way she would be doing nearly so well at this without him.

Beatrice arrived at a rough blockade of cars the police had put together, the screech of abused rubber and the loud revving of a rather ostentatious engine confirmed that this was indeed the direction the jackass was progressing in. The bright headlights of the garish vehicle highlighted the frozen figure of a teenage boy that had unknowingly wandered into the path of danger, she swiftly spurred herself into action. She grasped the boy firmly and hefted him into her arms before depositing him safely out of harm’s way, much to her disgust the car didn’t even slow down. Joyriding was one thing, but the idea that the guy hadn’t cared if he’d run down an innocent kid, that was another thing entirely.

Clearly the wall of police vehicles wasn’t enough of a deterrent either, the asshole drove directly through it, almost taking a few officers with him. With a distinctly disapproving frown she took off in a blur of movement, stopping to stand between the yellow monstrosity and the chain-link fence he likely planned to mow down next. The redhead stood her ground, daring the driver to run her down as callously as he almost did several bystanders.

For one worrying moment she wondered if he just wouldn’t stop. Then, even as she was preparing to dart out of the way, the car ground to an abrupt halt mere metres in front of her, tyres protesting loudly and the scent of burning rubber permeating the air.

“Step out of the car,” she demanded, voice now distorted.

“If you say so,” the man replied levelly eyes glinting with malicious amusement, as if he knew a joke only he was privy to. He moved towards the door and made deliberate eye contact with her as he roughly yanked the door off its’ hinges, launching it at her in what was definitely more than a warning shot. This guy wasn’t playing around.

Beatrice leant backwards, narrowly dodging the projectile, which became firmly lodged in the fence behind her. As she righted herself, she turned back towards her aggressor, determined not to be cowed.

Her breath caught in her throat as she took in the features of someone who now looked sickeningly familiar, not the belligerent brute of a man she’d previously presumed him to be but a teen. Tony Woodward. A boy she’d had dealings with before and had hoped to never have the displeasure of meeting again. He was a little older than her, and when she’d last seen him had been a tall tough kid who’d taken great satisfaction in making her life miserable. When Joe had moved their small family away from their old neighbourhood and they’d transferred schools she’d rejoiced at the thought of finally being shot of him. Joe had tried to insist the move was merely a consequence of his new promotion at work and change of precincts, but Beatrice wasn’t stupid. He’d seen they way the other kids and even some of the adults treated her after her mother’s murder and father’s subsequent arrest, and had been looking for the perfect opportunity to find a way out.

However, the last time she’d seen Tony he hadn’t been a veritable mountain of muscles, nor had he had the strength to throw car doors like frisbees. His dark hair was slicked back, and he flexed his muscles, intentionally showcased by his too tight tank top. Beatrice had a sinking feeling that she was dealing with another meta-human.

Unfortunately, her moment of shock cost her dearly.

Tony strode forward rolling his shoulders, steel toed combat boots thumping heavily across the asphalt, and before she could so much as flinch, he acted. She watched in numb horror as his arm smoothly transitioned into glistening silver metal, which he then drew back, brutally backhanding her straight through the already compromised fence.

She struggled to push herself to her feet, the air effectively knocked out of her, as a dark shadow loomed over her prone form.

Pain coursed unforgivingly through her limbs as she tensed in preparation to fling herself out of the way of anymore surprise punches. The smug voice that haunted her early education sent a familiar thrum of fear down her spine, “looks like you were born to take a beating,” he snarled. With that, he drew back his fist, the silver appendage glinting forebodingly in the dim light of the streetlamps, preparing to land a final blow.

She did the only thing she could, feeling very much like her helpless childhood self, mind clouded with pain and fright. She ran.

____________________

 

“Your childhood nemesis is now an unstoppable meta-human? That is seriously messed up!” Cisco commented, sounding far more entertained that Beatrice thought he had any right to be. She’d had to spend the previous evening lying in bed waiting for her speed healing to take care of the mess of bruises and abrasions she’d become. Desperately hoping that a speedily scrawled note declaring she’d gone to bed early would stave off any difficult questions from Joe or Iris. Fortunately, it’d worked, and she’d sent off a quick text to Cisco telling him they were going to meet and figure out a way to bring Tony down.

Which was supposed to be what they were doing now; too bad Cisco had the attention span of a toddler. She’d rushed over to Cisco’s place after seeing off Ned, M.J and Peter on their Decathlon trip to Washington, the latter boy being a surprise last minute addition to the team having apparently retracted his previous resignation.

They were currently holed up in his room, and it was pretty much the nerd cave she’s imagined it to be. Posters celebrating comic books and various sci-fi shows plastered the dark blue walls, and a rather beastly looking computer hummed away from where it took up a rather impressive amount of space on his desk. Every other available surface was covered in little scraps of metal and bundles of wires, dispersed among which were a multitude of various tools. Stacks of complicated hand drawn blueprints and diagrams were scattered haphazardly among the usual detritus found in a teenage boy’s room, mounds of unwashed laundry and battered textbooks.

“I’m so glad my high school bully isn’t a jacked up meta-human,” the dark-haired teen continued. “Jake Puckett, if I don’t let him copy my homework, he gives me a swirly.”

Beatrice grimaced, now a little glad that Flash being a narcissistic asshat was about the worst Midtown threw at her on a day to day basis. “Now that we’ve established we’re both uber-nerds, what are we going to do about Tony?”

Cisco perked up again, glad to no longer be thinking about the horrors of toilet water. “Glad you asked,” he chirped, hopping up from his perch on his bed and swinging down into his desk chair, tapping away at his keyboard. “I’ve been doing a little research on Tony Woodward. The night of the particle accelerator explosion it appears that Tony’s dad took him to visit an ironworks factory he worked at. Later that night the police got an anonymous call that some kid fell in a vat of molten scrap.” He paused a moment, looking a little horrified at the thought. “The police investigated but found no sign of a body or any evidence to back up the call, they chalked it up to a misguided prank. I bet you anything, that that’s how your behemoth buddy became a man of steel.” Cisco theorised, pulling up an address on the monitor. “I think our best bet now is if you grab a couple of samples of that metal, the factory was closed due to financial issues not long after the incident, so it shouldn’t be too difficult to do. It doesn’t look like anyone’s bothered to clean the place out yet, anyways. If you get that, I can analyse it at the lab and we can come up with a proper game plan.”

With a determined nod of understanding, Beatrice immediately set about completing her half of the deal, leaving Cisco looking particularly disgruntled as all his papers were thrown about in the breeze that signalled her departure. He sighed in annoyance, “I’m going to need to invest in paperweights.”

 ____________________

 

Iris could feel her hands shaking as Tony dragged her through the corridors of the old elementary school she’d once attended with both him and Beatrice. This had not at all been how she expected her day to go.

She had quite happily spent the afternoon in her favourite coffee shop, Jitters, hashing out and finalising plans for the fast approaching homecoming with her close friend Liz. They’d parted ways feeling very productive and accomplished, and she’d been on her way to take the subway home. But Tony had been waiting for her.

Without so much as a by your leave he’d grabbed her arm in a tight grip and pulled her into a near by alley. Ever the quick thinker, she’d hoped if she’d kept him talking, fed his ego a little, she could surreptitiously use her mobile to call for help or someone in the street might take notice. He was a lot more jacked than she’d remembered, unnaturally so, and despite all the self-defence lessons Joe had taught her and Bea, she wasn’t confident she could take him on. Unfortunately, he was also a lot more observant that she remembered, and when she’d tried to speed-dial her dad he’d noticed. She’d watched stupefied, heart stuttering in her chest, as his arm had transformed to steel and he’d reduced her phone to a mangled ball of glass and metal with a simple gesture, casually throwing the mess in the general direction of a nearby dumpster.

Tony had then manhandled her all the way to the school under the threat that if she so much as hinted something was amiss, he’d break her arms, and as desperate as she was she wasn’t willing to push her luck. She didn’t know how unstable he was, or how likely it would be he’d follow through on his threat. The bruising grip he kept on her was a potent reminder that he was definitely capable of doing so.

“So, what’s the plan here Tony? You finally gonna go for that G.E.D?” she nervously joked, as she glanced up and down the abandoned hallway, desperately hoping for a viable way out.

“You wanna plan? How about this, I’ve heard you’re quite the little busy body at your school newspaper. So now everyone’s writing about those little runts Spider-Man and the Streak, you’re going to write about me,” he informed her. His tone brooked no room for argument, clearly, he didn’t consider it a topic up for debate.

Iris regarded him sceptically, “you just abducted me Tony, why would I do that?”

“Because I gave everyone’s precious little speedster the beating of her life, she _ran from me!_ Who’s top dog now, eh?” the muscled teen beat a closed fist against his chest, punctuating his point. “Me, that’s who. I squashed that freak like a little bug. So, if you don’t want the same thing to happen to you, tell the world there’s a new big man on campus!” he yelled the last part, spreading his arms triumphantly as if waiting for a crowd to cheer him on with adoration.

Tony moved to lean casually against one of the gray lockers lining the dim, moonlit corridor, staring down at Iris’ slight form. “And I’m just getting started,” he goaded.

The dark-skinned girl tried to blink back tears and affect an aloof façade in the face of her fear, “you could have anybody write about you, Tony. Why me?”

He shrugged, “because I like you, Iris. I always have.” He flashed her a cocky smirk.

She caught sight of a fire alarm just to his right. She could do this. She drew in a breath to steel herself, glancing up at him through dark lashes, forcing a coquettish smile onto her face. “You should have said something,” she simpered, sauntering towards him. She watched him stare down at her smugly, thoroughly convinced by the act, she knew this would be her best chance. Iris lunged sideways pulling the alarm. A shrill ring echoed through the abandoned halls, and she swivelled round beginning to sprint away from her captor only to be caught in a vice-like grip. She gasped in pain as he dragged her towards him, lifting her slightly off the ground as he seethed.

“Try anything like that again and I’m going to give you more than a bruise,” he hissed irately, face flushed red with rage. He yanked her back to the fire alarm, forcibly ripping it from the wall in a shower of sparks, cutting off the loud ringing.

Iris fervently hoped someone had noticed.

 ____________________

 

Across New York Beatrice paced anxiously back and forth in the living room of their house, nervous hands darting through her hair. Iris should have been back ages ago, she’d sent Beatrice a text as she’d left Jitters, letting her know what time she’d be back and that she’d grab pizza on her way home. It was a system they’d often used if one of them had to traverse the streets of New York alone, that way if one of the took too long getting home without getting in contact the other could notify others that something was wrong. Sort of a buddy system.

It was now twenty minutes past the time Iris was supposed to be home, every call she’d made had gone straight to voicemail. Her next port of call had been to ring Joe, who had been understandably concerned and assured her he’d handle it, and that she was under no uncertain terms stay put.

She’d been worrying a hole into the floor since then, waiting impatiently for any news at all. Beatrice was convinced Tony was behind this, it was far to coincidental time-wise, but what could she do? She didn’t think she could search the whole of New York, even with superspeed.

She’d texted Cisco, updating him on the situation, hoping that he might be able to spot something considering he was tapped into police radios and keeping an eye on strange activity in the city. A part of her desperately wanted to call Peter, hear his soothing voice, but if she did she ran the risk of missing something important.

A series of jaunty beeps informed her she had an incoming call from her right-hand crime-fighting accomplice, she practically tackled her phone from its’ perch on a nearby table.

“Cisco?” she asked, desperately hoping he had a useful update.

“There’s been a fire alarm at Carmichael Elementary. I recognised the name from Tony’s records,” the teen boy responded, getting straight to the point.

“He must have taken Iris there,” Beatrice gasped in realisation. “I don’t suppose the metal sample has given you any idea on how I’m going to take him down?” It had fortunately been very easy to collect a small sample from the abandoned ironworks.

She could almost hear the grin in his voice as he responded, “it has actually, I’ve got to run a few more simulations to make sure it’s viable and you won’t go splat. But it’s promising.” Cisco chuckled nervously at the last part. “I’ll let you know as soon as I can, but until then remember fighting is physics. It’s not the size and strength that matters, it’s energy and power. You’re fast. Keep him moving, dodge what you can, and take advantage of his blind spots.”

The redhead chewed her lip in worry, “I don’t know if I like the sound of splat, Cisco.” She sighed, “but I can’t leave Iris with him, so I guess I’ll give it my best shot.”

 ____________________

 

Beatrice arrived just outside the main doors of Carmichael Elementary, chest aching with worry, hopefully Tony hadn’t done anything rash. She didn’t know if she could forgive herself if Iris got hurt, or worse.

Her anxious thoughts eased slightly as she heard voices drifting towards her from inside, that was definitely Iris, and she sounded her usual defiant self. Even in the face of danger Beatrice could hear her urging Tony to turn himself in, trying to convince him they’d be lenient if he did.

The burly teen definitely wasn’t buying it, “the cops are already looking for me,” he bit back venomously. “So, get ready to cover the showdown of a lifetime, because I’m not going down without a fight.” There was no mistaking the aggression in his voice, and the redhead could picture him looming over Iris threateningly.

Time to intervene.

She rushed through the doors she’d spent much of her early years running out of, away from bullies, and towards the welcoming arms of her parents. This time, she was facing her demons.

“Good, because you’ve just found one,” she dared him, voice altered both to intimidate and protect her identity.

“You just won’t stay down,” Tony pretended to complain, strutting down the corridor towards her hauling Iris harshly behind him. “Come to save one of your little fangirls?” he taunted, dark eyes glinting maliciously.

The leather of her gloves creaked as she clenched her fists tightly in anger, “this is between us, let her go.”

Tony sneered, shoving the dark-skinned girl towards the floor with more force than necessary. “Oh, I could. But I’d rather make her watch as I break every bone in your body.” He flexed menacingly as his whole body shone silver.

Beatrice figured now was the time to make the best of Cisco’s last-minute advice, she ran towards him sliding along the floor between his legs as he attempted to land a blow on her, grabbing Iris she deposited her a safe distance away further down the corridor.

“Wait here,” she instructed, waiting a beat until Iris nodded in affirmation.

She raced back towards Tony, dodging sideways to avoid another punch, then swivelling to land a kick on his side with enough force to knock him off kilter. “Too slow, tin man,” she mocked. Dodging under another wild strike, she punched back sending him careening into the wall with a scream of rage. “I’ve known guys like you, who use their strength to hurt others, to make others feel small to make up for their own shortcomings.” She shook her head in distaste. “All these powers, and look at you. Bully then, bully now.”

The redhead whirled around grabbing a nearby flagpole with the intention of landing a powerful enough blow to knock him down for the count. A mercurial hand reached out firmly grasping the other end, using it against her. Demonstrating that his muscles were not indeed merely for show, he swung the length of metal against the lockers lining the wall, trapping her between it and the wall of metal.

“Your plan would be great about now, Cisco,” she whispered hurriedly into her earpiece, voice a little strangled.

Cisco’s voice was music to her ears as Tony manoeuvred the pole, sending her flying through the air into another wall. “Here’s the deal. Any material, if struck at a high enough velocity can be compromised. I finished the analysis on the metal you collected. Based on its’ density and atomic structure, if you impact it at just the right angle at just the right speed, you could do some serious damage.”

“To me or him?” she attempted to joke between bruising blows, wincing as her shoulder smacked against the dreary tiles that lined the hallway. “How fast would I need to go?” she grunted, winded.

“Factoring in the metals tensile strength and, estimated dermal thickness, atmospheric pressure, current air temperature… You’d have to hit him at approximately Mach 1.1, or… 837 miles per hour”

“That’s faster than the speed of sound,” she exclaimed incredulously. Finally, she had room to breathe, having managed to back off enough that Tony could no longer swing the flagpole at her like an oversized baseball bat.

Cisco’s voice picked up with excitement, “I know! You would create a sonic boom! Which, as I have said before, would be awesome.”

She furrowed her brow in concern, “I’ve never gone that fast,” she said, still watching Tony carefully. The muscled behemoth had now discarded the pole, and was swiftly stalking towards her.

“Yet,” Cisco stated with confidence she certainly didn’t feel. “You’re going to need a straight shot from 5.3 miles away. Theoretically, if you do this right… you could take him down. Do it wrong and… you could shatter ever bone in your body,” he finished reluctantly, unable to ask this of her without her knowing all the risks.

“It’s the best chance I have,” she decided, squaring her shoulders. “I can’t beat him any other way.”

She nodded stubbornly and shot out of the closed doors to find a point the specified distance away, air rushing past her determined form, leaving behind a triumphant Tony and concerned Iris.

Beatrice came to a screeching halt gasping for breath, hands on her knees as she greedily gulped for air, Tony really had done a number on her. She turned, staring resolutely back in the direction of the school, focusing on her goal. The crackle of static electricity tingled across her skin as she prepared to run.

With a final exhale, she propelled herself forward.

“Go, dude, go!” she heard Cisco enthusiastically encourage as she thundered forward, pushing herself harder than she ever had before. The wind became a dull roar in her ears, the sound of her elevated heartbeat drowned out by the rush of air and the sound of glass shattering from the nearby parked cars.

Beatrice yelled ferociously as she launched herself through the double doors, raised fist knocking them clean of their hinges and tumbling down the hallway.

The hulking metal form of Tony barely had chance to turn towards the unexpected sound as her knuckles met his cheek, tiny fractures webbing across his iron skin from her fist. The sheer force of the impact sent him sliding across the tiles with an unpleasant screech.

“Supersonic punch, baby! Whoo!” Cisco cheered as she curled around her throbbing limb. Beatrice was in too much agony to react as Tony groggily pulled himself back to his feet, groaning in pain.

In her stead Iris stood firm, putting all her training from Joe to good use she threw a punch that laid the resilient meta-human out flat.

Beatrice managed to adopt a sitting position, gingerly avoiding putting any weight on her arm, “nice cross,” she complimented.

Iris winced, “I think I broke my hand,” she grunted in pain as she clutched her wrist below aforementioned appendage.

The redhead huffed in amusement, “yeah, me too.”

“We’re going after my bully next right?” Cisco piped up over the earpiece, startling a pained laugh from Beatrice. “What, c’mon, this is not a joke!”

The tired hero giggled a little pulling herself to her feet, turning to address the other teen in the hallway, ignoring Cisco’s increasingly ridiculous attempts to convince her. “The cops should be here soon, they were notified you were missing and it shouldn’t be long until they make the connection between the fire alarm and Tony’s old school. I don’t think he’ll be waking up for a while,” she stated nodding towards Woodward’s unconscious form as the distinct sound of sirens reached them. “Let them know what he can do when they get here, they can call people in who can detain him properly.”

Beatrice waited until the dark-haired girl nodded in agreement, taking off in a blur before she could ask any awkward questions.

______________________

 

The redhead sat waiting impatiently on the leather sofa for Joe and Iris to return, foot tapping repetitively. Flexing her wrist slightly, relieved that all remained of her ill-advised stunt was a faint ache. She jumped up in excitement as she heard the front door open, bouncing over and pulling her sister in all but blood into a firm hug.

“Oh my god! I’m so glad you’re okay, I heard what happened! Are you hurt? Did he hurt you?” she babbled, holding Iris at arm’s length to give her a once over.

Iris pulled her into another hug with a fond eye roll, “I’m just fine! Maybe a little bruised, but I punched the tool!” she celebrated, sounding particularly pleased with herself. “It hurt, but I didn’t break my hand so that’s something,” she laughed.

“What happened?” Beatrice asked, gently herding Iris into the living room and onto the couch as Joe wandered off towards the kitchen. Probably to acquire some form of sustenance for the three of them after a rather trying day.

“The Streak saved me!” Iris supplied eagerly. “It was incredible, Tony he just… turned into metal, and I was so scared, but the Streak beat him!” she was grinning widely, excited to recount the night’s events. “I wanted to get some answers from her. You know, for my blog. Like, where does she come from? How does she do what she does? But she just took off, dodging everything. Literally! With her superspeed power.” Beatrice watched on with an encouraging smile, heart warm with affection as Iris’ eyes shone in awe. “When she moves, Bea, you don’t even see her. She comes and goes in the blink of an eye, in a-“

“Flash?” the pale girl suggested, almost on autopilot.

Iris paused, staring at her thoughtfully, before her lips curled into a soft smile. “Yeah, in a flash.”

 

 

 


	10. Only Human

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry, I've left this for several months and you have my sincere apologies. I promise you, that the last proper chapter, and a little bonus scene will be posted within the next week or so. Thank you very much to anyone who left kudos, commented or bookmarked. I am very grateful for your support.

_'Cause I'm only human after all_  
_You're only human after all_  
 _Don't put the blame on me_  
 _Don't put your blame on me_  
\- Human by Rag’n’Bone Man

* * *

 

Peter rhythmically thumped his head against the cold metal of the container top, wondering just how he’d managed to get himself into this mess.

It’d all gone downhill after he and Ned had found one of the weapons dealers and ‘anonymous henchman no.3’ wandering around Midtown High. They had apparently tracked the power source to the shop room Ned and he had been examining it in earlier, Peter had figured it was the perfect opportunity to surreptitiously plant a tracker on them. He had hoped they’d lead him straight to their base of operations; the whole thing had felt very much like the spy stuff they’d only ever seen in movies. It was quite possible he and Ned got a little caught up in the thrill of it all.

When the tracker had finally stopped a little outside of D.C Washington, the Academic Decathlon had seemed like the flawless excuse he needed to do some sleuthing. The destination of the trip was almost too convenient. So, he’d re-joined the team and headed off under the guise of pursuing academic success rather than a bunch of shifty criminals.

Of course, the good ol’ Parker luck had to strike again.

At the time coercing Ned into removing the tracker they’d found in his suit seemed like a brilliant idea, and when they’d discovered the ‘training wheels’ protocol Mr Stark had installed, that had obviously had to go too. He didn’t need it, he wasn’t a kid, how was he supposed to prove himself if he couldn’t even use his suit to its’ full capabilities. Better to ask for forgiveness rather than permission, right?

Ned had initially been reluctant but had eventually caved, in hindsight it was possible Peter may have been a little hasty. He’d followed the tracker signal to a gas station where he’d intended to simply listen in and figure out what their deal was, unfortunately, he’d found himself quickly overwhelmed by the full scope of the suit. Nothing worked like it was supposed to, and the inbuilt suit AI though really cool, hadn’t been particularly helpful. The new web-combinations were also a welcome surprise, or they would’ve been if he had any idea how to use them. Peter was also a little concerned that Mr Stark had thought he’d need an insta-kill function.

His lack of familiarity with the suit features had quickly become a hindrance, and when the bird guy had shown up things had gone very quickly from bad to worse. Things that he had done so easily in his old suit, simply didn’t work the way he wanted them to. He’d only attempted to stop the creepy wing dude from liberating goods from a passing convoy of military grade lorries, it should’ve been child’s play. Needless to say, he had not been successful.

So, here he was, bored out of his skull, trapped in the Damage Control deep storage vault. All his attempts to pry open the industrial sized doors had been met with complete and utter failure. His mood wasn’t entirely helped by the suit lady informing him it was very likely he would remain trapped here until morning.

Speaking of, “hey, suit lady? I kind of feel bad just calling you ‘suit lady’, you know? I think I should probably give you a name. Like… Beatrice? No, no, no.” he quickly backtracked, cheeks flushing heatedly. “God that’s- That’s weird.” He paused for a moment in thought, having firmly dismissed that option. As he thought he absentmindedly swung from his webs, legs dragging lazily across the floor. “How about, Karen?”

Peter let go of his web, landing in an ungainly heap on the floor staring at the depressingly grey expanse of concrete ceiling. “You can call me Karen if you would like,” the disembodied voice responded in her soothingly measured tone.

He grinned a little, one problem solved. Maybe this would be a good a time as any to figure out what this suit could really do, it only made sense for him to properly acquaint himself with the features. He didn’t want to get caught short again. For a while he occupied himself practicing different web combinations, creating a tangled mess across the austere walls, he’d particularly enjoyed the web grenade. He grimaced a little as her surveyed the chaos he’d created, wondering how they’d react to all of this when they opened the vault in the morning, before he remembered with a happy smile that they’d dissolve.

The excitable teen quickly grew bored, and decided it would probably be wise not to waste all his web fluid now.

Which is how he’d ended up resting on the top of one of the numerous metal containers that occupied the ridiculously large space, wrapped in his decathlon blazer and hoodie to fight off the chill that was beginning to seep through his suit. He began to occupy himself chatting with Karen, as he swiftly exhausted the fun found in the ‘count the cracks in the ceiling’ game.

“Should I tell Triss I’m Spider-Man?” he queried, vocalising something he’d spent many an hour debating about to himself.

“Who is Triss?” Karen inquired.

“Who’s Triss? Well, Beatrice actually. She’s- the best. She’s awesome. She’s a girl that goes to my school, but she’s also one of my best friends. And, uh- yeah, I just- I really want to tell her, but it’s kind of weird, you know? ‘Hey, I’m Spider-Man’” he attempted, adopting a slightly more mature sounding voice. He could already feel the light blush dusting his cheeks as he thought about it, he’d imagined a thousand different reactions she might have.

“What’s weird about that?” Karen responded in her cool and collected manner.

Peter shrugged, “what if she’s expecting someone like Tony Stark? I mean, imagine how disappointed she’d be when she sees me.”

“Well, if I were her, I wouldn’t be disappointed at all.”

The teen felt himself blush a little at the unexpected compliment, even as he struggled to believe it. “Thanks, Karen. It’s really nice to have someone to talk to.” He paused for a moment, staring blankly at the ceiling once more. “Hey, how long have we been here anyway?”

“Thirty-seven minutes,” Karen chirped helpfully.

Peter jerked up in abject shock, “what?!” He’d been positive he’d been here for several hours at least. “Thirty-seven minutes? That’s insane. I cannot take this anymore. I’ve got to- I gotta get out of here.”

Goal firmly set in mind, he decided his best bet was to search the containers for anything useful, starting with the duffel bag full of stuff the vulture-guy had tried to take with him. The teen discarded a strange humming cog thing, and a robot head with very creepy red eyes, before digging out a power core almost identical to the one he’d left in Ned’s care. The purple glow lit up the gloomy walls of the container somewhat eerily. Maybe Karen would know something…

“That ‘glowy thing’ is an explosive Chitauri energy core,” she informed him, not sounding anywhere near as worried by that revelation as Peter felt.

He quickly dropped it in panic, which in hindsight probably wasn’t the best choice, it usually wasn’t the smartest idea to drop anything described as explosive. “Whoah! You mean, we’ve been carrying around a bomb?!”

Karen remained unruffled, “It would require radiation to transform it into an explosive state.”

Not feeling particularly reassured by that piece of information, he frantically tried to dial Ned’s number, only to discover that the super secure facility had not only shut him in but the cell signal out. He needed to get out of here, and fast. Ned could be in trouble.

 

* * *

 

Beatrice sat perched on the edge of her couch, with her heart in her throat. Her bright red hair was a tangled mess from constantly running her nervous hands through it, she wouldn’t be surprised if her lip was bruised from constantly worrying it. She’d seen the initial report of the incident at the Washington Monument and had immediately felt cold dread crawling along her skin, the Decathlon students were visiting there. She remembered Ned and M.J discussing the schedule together.

Ned had been so excited, M.J was significantly less enthused, and for good reason considering the history of the monument. Though she had been looking forward to some light protesting. And now, Peter was there too.

So here she was, shoulders lined with tension, gazing fixedly at the television screen watching for sporadic updates.

“… _the Spider-Man swooped in, heroically saving an Academic Decathlon team from Queens.”_ The reporter informed the general public, finally giving a meaningful update, rather than reiterating the same news as she had been for the past hour.

Beatrice flopped backwards against the leather cushions of the couch, smiling in relief. They were okay, possibly a little traumatised, but definitely alive. Thank god for the Spider-Man, he was officially a true hero in her books.

She pulled her phone out of her pocket, intent on calling Peter, hoping he would finally answer. Her previous attempts to call Ned, Peter or even M.J, had thus far been unsuccessful. Beatrice waited nervously as it rang, although she trusted the report a part of her wouldn’t stop worrying until she heard from one of them herself. Some of the tension she still held drained away as he picked up.

“Hey, Triss,” he greeted, sedately. Which wasn’t a surprise, he’d likely had a tough day.

“Oh, Peter! Thank god you’re okay. I’ve been watching the news since all the reports started, gotta say it’s good to hear your voice.” She could feel tears prickling at the back of her eyes as the final dregs of worry eased away.

“It’s okay, everyone’s fine,” Peter reassured. “A bit shaken, but fine. In fact, I wasn’t even on the elevator, neither was M.J.”

“Shit, poor Ned. How is he handling it?”

“Pretty well, to be honest. Excited he saw Spider-Man mostly, you know Ned.”

Beatrice chuckled, “yeah, I do. Well, I’m grateful our favourite web-slinger was there then, and not just so Ned could fanboy about it. I can’t believe he scaled the entire monument, that was ballsy. He’s a brave dude.”

“Sounds like Ned’s not his only fan,” Peter teased, and she could almost hear the smile in his voice.

The redhead scoffed, “shut up! I just appreciate him saving my friend’s life. I’m not Iris, I don’t go around crushing on men in tight spandex I’ve never even met.” It wasn’t like she could tell Peter she actually had met him, and even if she could she wouldn’t exactly say she was attracted to him anyway. He’d been sweet, pretty excitable, definitely able to hold his own, and she couldn’t deny he cut a pretty sharp figure in that red and blue get up. But, none of that changed the fact that she didn’t _know_ him. She didn’t really seem to develop feelings for someone until she’d developed some form of friendship with them first, just as she had with Peter.

Peter laughed a little stiffly, “yeah… yeah, of course. I- I should go, the bus is nearly here and it looks like Mr Harrington is about to start the final headcount before we head off.”

She bit back her disappointment, “sure, I guess we’ll catch up at school tomorrow then.”

“See you then, Triss,” he reassured, disconnecting the call.

 

* * *

 

The cafeteria was abuzz with excited chatter as students discussed the events of the passing weekend. A sea of blue and red moved through the halls, as students sported colours declaring their support of Spider-Man in gratitude for his heroic act.

Peter, Ned and Beatrice were sat together at one of the quieter tables located at the back of the cafeteria. The redhead had vaguely noticed that Peter had been smiling to himself in stolen moments all day, she’d been tempted to ask, but had chalked it up the Decathlon teams recent win and the contagious mood of celebration permeating the school. In all honesty, she was a little afraid to dig any deeper than that, she was well aware he’d spent the entire weekend with Liz Allen and she wasn’t eager to find out if any of her paranoia was warranted. She was probably being stupid, but she still found herself pushing the unappetising school dinner round her plate despondently.

Ned decided it was high time he broke the slightly uncomfortable silence, “sooooo… with all the superhero hype today, I’d like to make a motion to acknowledge the official naming of our favourite scarlet Streak.” He adopted a rather terrible posh English accent towards the end of his sentence, causing both his friends to crack small amused smiles.

Peter glanced back from people watching, looking curious, “official naming? I thought the Streak was the name?”

“Seriously?” Beatrice huffed, a little insulted, “I hope not, that’s an awful name.”

“You’re in luck then,” Ned grinned, pleased that the momentary weirdness had abated, he fished in his pocket attempting to excavate his phone. “The internet seems pretty settled on this new one, official twitter hashtag and everything. I did some snooping and found the blog post it came from, it’s actually a really good read. Whoever it is has been collecting reports about sightings for weeks.”

Both his tablemates watched him, caught half way between interest and bewilderment.

“Here, I’ll read you the latest post,” he declared, taking a quick swig of his soda and beginning a dramatic rendition of the text on his phone. “ _To understand what I’m about to tell you, I need you to do something first. You need to believe in the impossible. Can you do that? Good. Because all of us, we have forgotten what miracles look like. Maybe, because the haven’t made much of an appearance lately. Our lives have become ordinary. But there is someone out there who is extraordinary._

_“Today, I was saved by the impossible. A mystery woman. The fastest woman alive. Then a friend gave me an idea for a new name. And something tells me it’s going to catch on._

_“I don’t know where you came from. I don’t know who you are. But I have seen you do the impossible to protect the city I love, and the people I love. So, for those of us who believe in you, and what you’re doing, I just want to say: Thank you.”_ Ned concluded, before looking at them with childish excitement.

Beatrice felt her heart stutter in her chest, feeling more than a little shell shocked, “that’s a hell of a declaration of support,” she finally choked out. “A little dramatic, but impressive.”

Peter nodded, “so, what is it?”

“What’s what?” Ned asked, confused, he was so absorbed in the post he’d forgotten the original purpose of reading it.

The redhead rolled her eyes fondly, “the name.”

“Oh!” he exclaimed, flushing a little in embarrassment, “it was the title of the post. ‘The Flash’”

A soft smile spread across Beatrice’s face and she felt affection well in her chest, truly touched. Iris must have written it, their conversation after the Tony debacle and the contents of the post were far too coincidental for it not to be her. It was sort of humbling to know her sister held such a high opinion of her, especially considering Iris had no idea it was her.

Peter tilted his head in consideration, “I like it. Almost as cool as Spider-Man,” he jested, nudging Ned.

Beatrice snorted in amusement, “better than ‘The Streak’ at least. Definitely glad we’re past that.”

Both his friends jolted in shock as Peter’s expression suddenly fell and he heavily dropped his head onto the hard surface of the table with a dramatic groan, and a painful sounding thump.

“What is it, man?” Ned frowned in concern.

“Do you have any idea how unbearable Flash is going to be once he hears about this?” the boy complained, looking physically pained at the thought.

For a moment they were both silent as they considered it, then with two identical thumps they both dramatically crumpled onto the tables cold surface, commiserating with Peter.

 

* * *

 

Cisco had called her in a panic, babbling about detecting another energy pulse in the middle of New York harbour. When she’d asked how that was possible, he’d informed her that though the initial pulse was minimal the second had been off the charts, and it’d coincided with reports pouring in that something terrible had happened to the Staten Island Ferry.

Beatrice had rushed to get there, pushing herself as hard as possible, she arrived to find chaos. The entire ferry was completely sawn in half, she’d never seen or heard anything like it, and for a moment she didn’t believe she was actually witnessing it. Realising that now was hardly the time for gawping, she quickly ran towards the two halves of the boat that were rapidly taking on water, frightened screams of passengers pervading her senses.

She caught sight of the familiar blue and red attired form of Spider-Man, frantically trying to web together the two sides of the wreckage. She was relieved he was here, she knew her speed would be practically useless at holding the mangled boat together, she’d be best off serving a supporting role this time. Hopefully, she could get some of the civilians out while Spidey handled the main issue, he looked to be doing quite well currently.

In a flurry of movement practically indiscernible to the naked eye she deployed the lifeboats, loading in as many of the elderly, physically disabled and young as she could. Followed by the more able passengers. The scarlet speedster had never been more thankful for the huge physical boost the particle accelerator incident had given her, or she would never have been capable of carrying so many to safety. People were shocked to suddenly find themselves floating away from the horrifically damaged remains of the ship, and she caught a few scattered words of gratitude aimed her way. She allowed herself a quick self-congratulatory grin as she realised her new pseudonym had indeed spread, before forcing herself to focus on the imminent danger at hand.

To her horror she realised, there weren’t nearly enough lifeboats, even for the quiet mid-day ferry which had been nowhere near full capacity. Beatrice heaved a sigh as she began instead moving people towards the top deck, away from the quickly rising waters, hoping that the response time of the coastguard was as swift as rumoured. There simply wasn’t enough time to ferry everyone individually to shore. There was little else she could do in this situation, the feeling of being unable to help anymore than she had grated on her.

Perhaps the web-slinger could buy them more time, he was doing an impressive job of lashing the two halves of the boat together. She admired him for a brief minute, amazed at his ingenuity, he was certainly intelligent and resourceful. The remaining passengers began to cheer for Spider-Man as the sickening rocking of the boat settled. For one golden moment, only sounds of jubilation could be heard, and she imagined the male hero was sporting a similarly pleased smile to hers.

It didn’t last.

Her ears were once again filled with the shrill sounds of screaming, punctuated by the snapping of webs giving out under too much strain.

She watched in dismay as the young super threw himself into the air, attaching two webs to each side of the boat and attempting to physically pull it together with only his own strength. His pained screams went almost unnoticed amongst the chorus of rushing water, and creaking metal.

The two sides of the boat began to move together, and for a brief second, she thought his last-ditch attempt had actually worked, against all odds. That was until she caught sight of the iconic façade of Iron-Man’s suit, the gathered civilians quickly chanting their support.

Relieved, she decided she could now make herself scarce, Stark could handle it from here.

 

* * *

 

Peter sat despondently atop the L. Carey Tunnel Ventilation Building overlooking the aftermath of today’s chaotic event. Kicking his legs back and forth nervously as he awaited the inevitable arrival of Mr Stark and the subsequent lecture, a sick feeling clawed at his insides.

“Previously on Peter screws the pooch,” a familiar sarcastic drawl piped up from behind him, accompanying the whir of a high-tech propulsion system. “I tell you to stay away from this. Instead, you hacked a multi-million-dollar suit, so you could sneak around behind my back doing the one thing I told you not to do.”

“Is everyone ok?” the young teen asked, feeling very vulnerable and a little afraid of the answer.

“Yeah, no thanks to you. Looks like your pal Sonic found her way over to pick up the pieces,” Tony sneered.

“No thanks to me?” Peter rebutted indignantly, jumping up from his perch to fully face the man he idolised. “Those weapons are still out there, and I tried to tell you about it… but you didn’t listen.” He could feel himself becoming a little hysterical, frustration building into righteous anger. “None of this would’ve happened if you’d just listened to me.” The teen glanced up at the city sky-line, gathering himself before continuing more sedately, “if you even cared, you’d actually be here.”

Peter took a surprised step back as the suit suddenly opened to reveal the irate form of Tony Stark in the flesh. The expression of sheer disappointment on his face tore deeply at parts of Peter he’d thought he’d buried with Uncle Ben.

“I did listen, kid. Who do you think called the FBI, huh? Do you know, I was the only one who believed in you? Everyone else said I was crazy to recruit a fourteen-year-old.”

“I’m fifteen,” he automatically defended.

“No, this is where you zip it, all right?” the older man’s voice rose with barely restrained fury. “The adult is talking. What if someone had died tonight? Different story, right? Because that’s on you.” Peter could feel his shame and embarrassment burning hotly behind his eyes. “And if you died… I feel like that’s on me. I don’t need that on my conscience.”

Peter swallowed thickly, “Yes, sir. I’m, I-I-I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it.”

The teen scrambled for words, “I just wanted to be like you.”

Tony’s response sent a sharp spear of pain through his chest, “and I wanted you to be better.” Mr Stark shrugged nonchalantly as Peter struggled to process everything that was happening. “Okay, so it’s not working out. I’m gonna need the suit back.”

“For how long?”

Peter almost flinched from his harsh glare, “forever.”

The tears he’d previously held back welled traitorously in his deep brown eyes, “no, no, no, no. Please, please, you don’t understand, this is all I have. I’m nothing without the suit,” he desperately tried to entreat.

Tony raised a single unimpressed brow, “if you’re nothing without this suit, then you shouldn’t have it. Oh, god. I sound like my dad.”

Peter recoiled feeling like he’d been physically struck, he struggled to get his voice to cooperate, suddenly feeling numb. “I don’t have any other clothes.”

“Okay, we’ll sort that out.”

 

* * *

 

The next week crawled by as Peter found himself desperately trying to adapt to normal life, trying to distract himself from the bone deep ache of shame that haunted him. He’d been mortified and hurt after Tony had dropped him off at home in a pair of hello kitty pyjama bottoms and an ‘I survived my trip to NYC’ shirt. Frankly, Mr Stark had probably found the shirt rather amusing, but it’d felt like another way to kick him when he was down to Peter. Upon his return, he’d found Aunt May consumed with worry and frustration regarding his recent antics. It’d been the last straw, he’d collapsed against her, tears streaming down his face. The teen had cobbled together a story about losing the Stark internship, as close a thing to the truth as he could bring himself to tell.

Mr Stark was right, he wasn’t cut out for this, and in his selfishness, he’d hurt his Aunt. How could he have done that to her after everything she’d been through, when she worked so hard to keep him safe and happy. She’d been frantic with worry, anxiously ringing up precincts, wondering if the worst had happened. Probably imagining him the same way Peter had found Uncle Ben, alone and bleeding, kind eyes devoid of life.

He couldn’t do that to her anymore, so he threw himself into life at school. Focused on his classes and homework, built LEGO with Ned, hung out just chatting about anything and everything with Beatrice. When she wasn’t rushing off to meet Cisco, that is., and he tried his best to serve his detentions without complaint.

It was one of these occasions when he’d left detention for a quick bathroom break that he’d bumped into Liz Allen.

“Hey,” he greeted softly.

“Hey,” she returned, a kind but slightly nervous smile on her pretty face.

“I thought you had calculus fifth period?”

“Yeah,” she shrugged, “just doing some homecoming stuff.”

He glanced at his feet, shifting awkwardly. “Hey, I just, er- wanted to apologise about the whole decathlon thing-“

“It’s fine,” she cut in, frowning slightly. “Last week decathlon was the most important thing, but then I almost died.”

Peter floundered, closing his mouth once or twice before managing to summon a semi-coherent sentence. “No, I’m, er- I just mean that… it wasn’t cool, especially… because… I knew decathlon was so important to you.”

She smiled at him shyly, a blush blossoming delicately across her cheeks. “It’s okay, Peter. I appreciate that, how about you make it up to me then? Neither of us have a date to homecoming, so maybe we, er- could go together?” she coughed anxiously as he merely stared at her in shock. “I was so busy planning it, I actually never got to that part, so…” she left the question hanging, twisting her hands together as she gazed at him hopefully.

He struggled to find his voice, a part of him flattered and another part aching. He’d wanted to go with Beatrice, he’d daydreamed about asking her. Imagined how her face would light up in one of her bright contagious smiles, how she’d run a hand through her vivid hair, pushing it out of her face and making it an adorable mess before agreeing. But that was all they ever were, daydreams. She’d been spending more and more time with some older guy named Cisco, who was probably super cool and good looking. The self-conscious part of him wondered what she would ever see in her dorky friend Peter Parker. He couldn’t even bring himself to ask and be rejected, to risk their friendship. Then there was Liz, he liked Liz, though maybe not the same way he used to. A few years ago, this would have been his dream, what was the harm in agreeing?

“Y-yeah,” he stammered, still a little overwhelmed, “that, that sounds nice. Let’s go together.”

Her smile grew brighter, dark eyes sparkling, “cool.”

They both missed the flash of yellow lightning disappearing around the corner of the corridor.

* * *

 

Iris knocked on the dark wood of the door leading to her sister’s room. Her dad was out late, and he’d left them money for pizza, so after placing the order for their usual she’d wandered upstairs to let Beatrice know dinner was on the way.

The dark-skinned girl frowned when after a moment she received no answer, that was… odd. She knew she was in. Iris knocked again, waiting a beat before calling out. “I’m coming in,” she warned before gently pushing the door open, revealing darkness. She strode in, carefully feeling for the switch that would turn on the bedside lamp, the hallway light illuminating a bundle of blankets on the bed that shook slightly in time with the sound of soft sobs.

She used the soft light of the lamp to navigate her way onto the mattress next to the bundle, curling up face to face with the redhead, just like she used to when Beatrice had first come to live with them, haunted by nightmares. From her new vantage point she could see that the teens eyes were rimmed with red, and tear tracks shone brightly against her unusually flushed cheeks. Iris reached down instinctually to intertwine their hands in a gesture of support and comfort. “What happened, Bea?” she whispered.

Beatrice sniffled softly, voice thick with tears as she responded, “It’s stupid. I’m stupid. It’s my fault anyway, if I wasn’t such a freaking coward.” Her face crumpled as a she tried to hold back a light sob. Iris waited patiently for her to continue. “I was leaving school, and I passed by one of the corridors near the detention block, and I could hear Peter so I thought I’d go say hi. And, they- they’re going to homecoming together,” fresh tears rolled down her face.

Iris frowned, squeezing her hands. “Oh, sweetie… you’re not stupid- “

“I am,” the distraught girl cut across her, “I should have said something. I have no right to be upset if I couldn’t even scrounge up the courage to ask. I just- I knew he liked her, I knew it. It’s not like I can blame him, she’s wonderful.” She glanced down, swallowing thickly. “I just, I didn’t think seeing them together would… _hurt_. So much. I should be happy for them, for him. But I just _hurt._ ” She tried to swallow another sob, resisting the urge to clutch at her chest in the hopes it’d relieve the pain.

“Hey, come on,” Iris pulled her focus back to the present, “you can’t help how you feel, and it’s okay to cry about it.” She wrapped her arms around the other teen, pulling the taller girl towards her. “You can’t change what happened, and I’m really sorry but yeah, at first seeing them together is going to suck. It’s going to suck so much. But you can’t let that stop you. Maybe you can’t be happy for them right now, and that’s okay, that’s normal, but one day you will be. Even if it doesn’t feel like it right now, it won’t hurt forever, okay?”

She felt Beatrice slowly nod from where her head was buried against her neck, still quietly sniffling.

Iris pushed her back, holding her at arm’s length, gaze earnest. “Now, here’s the plan. We are going to get you out of that blanket cocoon and out of the sad cave,” she stated, glancing meaningfully at the darkened room. “I’ve already ordered pizza, so food is on the way, we’re also going to dig out the biggest tub of ice-cream we have. Then we’re going to put on whatever nerdy film you want, and I won’t even complain about it,” she jested attempting to lighten the mood. “Tomorrow, we are going to go dress shopping, just you and me. Neither of us have dates to homecoming, so we are going to buy bomb-ass dresses, and go to homecoming together, no dates needed. You have my word that we are going to look _incredible._ ” Iris stated firmly, leaving no room for argument. “We are going to have an amazing night, I will make sure of it. Now come on, get up. You’ve done the crying bit, I’m calling an end to this pity party,” she grinned at the slightly baffled redhead and danced to her feet. The slight hint of a smile tugging at the corner of the pale girl’s lips made her internally cheer in triumph.

 


	11. A New Dawn

_ Fish in the sea _   
_ You know how I feel _   
_ River running free _   
_ You know how I feel _   
_ Blossom in the trees _   
_ You know how I feel _

_ It's a new dawn _   
_ It's a new day _   
_ It's a new life _   
_ For me _   
_ And I'm feeling good  
- _ Feeling Good by Muse

* * *

 

Beatrice tugged self-consciously at the hem of her white dress, absentmindedly thumbing at the navy beads that spiralled across the fabric in a floral web. The night had started out pretty well, she’d spent some time chatting with M.J, who insisted she was only here because it was the perfect place to revel in teenage misery and sketch people in crisis. After that, Iris had returned from greeting her friends, and in her usual whirlwind of charm had managed to coerce Beatrice, Ned and even M.J into dancing. The latter two had only joined in for a short while, before disappearing to catch up with their fellow decathlon members, leaving her and Iris to spin around the dancefloor faces glowing brightly with laughter.

Amongst the bright lights and the diverting company of her friends she’d really enjoyed herself, her thoughts had hardly drifted towards the hollowness in her chest and the ache in her heart. The spell broke as Iris’ eyes caught the dejected from of Liz Allen, stood alone in the middle of the dancefloor gazing forlornly at the front doors to the school.

Iris quickly made her excuses, feeling obligated to check on her friend, leaving Beatrice shuffling awkwardly and her head spinning with questions. Why was Liz alone? Where was Peter? Surely, he wouldn’t run out on the girl he’d been crushing on since before she’d even met him, he wasn’t the kind of person to abandon his date unless something bad had happened. Something serious.

If anyone would know what had happened, it would be Ned. She scanned the crowd, unable to spot the hat that was so uniquely Ned. Catching sight of M.J, the redhead decided that she would probably be her next best bet to find him. She appeared to be mid sketch, studying a couple who were currently mid argument. A tall ginger boy sulking as he stared at the crowd of dancing teens, a very pretty girl in a sari waspishly demanding if he was going to bother asking her to dance. M.J smirked in amusement as the girl stormed off, apparently having received an unsatisfactory response.

“Hey, M.J,” Beatrice greeted, raising her voice in order to be heard over the music. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen Ned?”

M.J’s expression remained distantly amused as she continued to sketch. “He went outside after Liz got ditched, a little while after he jogged back through here and left through the doors to the I.T department,” she concluded in a bored tone.

“That’s weird,” the pale teen murmured to herself, frowning in confusion. Thanking the seemingly omnipotent girl, she hurried off in the direction Ned had apparently disappeared.

She speedily came to the conclusion that heels were the absolute worst, she’d barely worn the death contraptions before, and each quick step made her want to use one of the heels to murder whatever sadistic idiot invented them.

She strode down the darkened corridor leading towards the I.T rooms, the faint sounds of conversation and the cold glow of computer screens were clearly visible through the glass windows in one of the doors.

The teen girl quietly pushed her way into the room as the sound pf Peter’s voice drifted over the speakers, bringing her to an abrupt halt, “He’s gonna rob that plane, I’ve got to stop him.”

Her breath caught in her throat, a wave of dizziness washing over her. He was going to stop a plane robbery? How? He was just one nerdy teenage boy, Peter, her wonderful dork of a friend. She inhaled sharply as the pieces suddenly fell into place. Of course, how could she be so stupid. It all made sense now. Why he was busy all the time with his internship with Iron-Man no less, the bruises he always tried to hide, his trip to Berlin at the exact time the Avengers were fighting over the Sokovian Accords. The newspaper reports that placed Spider-Man in Germany at that exact time as Peter, the strange sense of familiarity she’d felt at hearing the webslingers voice. She’d been too preoccupied at the time, shoved that niggling feeling to the back of her head for later consideration. But she’d been too busy, so caught up in trying to keep up with her own abilities that the thought had just fallen to the wayside.

It all fit, like a puzzle she never knew she had all the pieces for, hadn’t even realised she’d been solving. He was the right build, the right height, and his excitable babbling and veritable motor-mouth should have been enough to tip her off.

Peter Parker was Spider-Man.

Her frenzied thoughts were broken by the shrill sound of grating metal, and the worried voice of Ned demanding to know the wellbeing of his friend.

Peter Parker was Spider-Man, he was in trouble, and she could help.

With renewed purpose she shoved the door to the room completely open, causing Ned to whirl around in his chair with such ferocity he nearly fell out of it. He steadied himself, dark eyes wide with shock and mouth soundlessly falling open and closed again. The determined voice of Peter echoed over the speakers again, oblivious to the drama unfolding back at Midtown, instructing Ned to contact some dude called Happy Hogan.

Beatrice raised a single ginger eyebrow as she watched Ned scramble, folding her arms across her chest and adopting a stance that clearly said ‘don’t test me right now.’ The olive-skinned teen swallowed nervously, having never been on the receiving end of her ferocious temper.

“Look,” she began, tone stern, “there’s no point making excuses. It’s pretty obvious what’s going on. So just tell me where he’s going and I’ll save the Spanish Inquisition for later, okay?”

The steel in her voice made him comply without really thinking about it. He pointed shakily at the map on his screen and to the location of a small blinking GPS marker, “old industrial park, Brooklyn.”

She marched over, heels clicking across the tiled floor, taking in the screen and fixing the point in her mind’s eye. She nodded at him firmly, spinning in place and striding out of the room without another word. The door clicking shut behind her, in a sound Ned equated to the final nail being hammered into his coffin. If Beatrice didn’t kill him, Peter just might for exposing his secret.

The chubby teen stared numbly at the floor, still only half processing what had happened. He was so focused on his own inner turmoil, that he was sure his brain short-circuited as the lights to the room were fully switched on. He looked up meeting the disapproving glare of his physics teacher. Ned wondered if it was possible to have a nervous breakdown at fifteen, because he could swear he could feel one coming on.

 

* * *

 

The world was closing in on him, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think. His chest _burned_ , and he choked on the dust in the air and his own heaving sobs. Throat raw, he struggled to inhale, hands desperately clawing for purchase and sliding uselessly through the coarse rubble.

Peter tried to centre himself, “okay, ready,” he shakily murmured. Bracing himself against the cold concrete as he attempted to push the twisted mass of the warehouse off him. A tortured sob ripped its way from his chest as his strength failed him, agony tearing at every inch of his beaten body. “Hello?” he called out between urgent gasps. “Hello! Please, hey. Hey, please. I’m down here. I’m stuck. I’m stuck. I can’t move. I can’t-“ he trailed off, once more wheezing for breath.

No one was coming, no one could hear him, Mr Stark was right, he wasn’t cut out for this. He desperately tried to reign in another despairing sob, tears streaming down dirt streaked cheeks. He was going to die here, cold and alone. Someone would find his broken body, crushed under the weight of his own failure.

He would never see them again, see anyone again. Feel the warm embrace of his Aunt May, or taste her terrible cooking. Wouldn’t theorise about ridiculous plot holes in sci-fi movies with Ned, his first friend, and his only friend for a long time. Never again would he see Beatrice roll her eyes and smile fondly at his and Ned’s ridiculous antics. He would never get the chance to tell her how he really felt. He’d failed. He was no hero. The chitauri weapons were going to take innocent lives and he couldn’t stop it. Hadn’t been strong enough. Good enough.

He stared blankly at the homemade mask he’d discarded in the puddle that had formed in front of him, ragged breathes pulled from quivering lips. A relic of the hope he’d had. All he’d wanted was to help people, use his powers to stop bad things happening to good people. People like his Uncle Ben.

His pale face was mockingly reflected back at him, half concealed by the damp surface of the mask. Mr Stark’s words echoing in his mind. He’d been right, he didn’t deserve the suit if he was nothing without it. He’d vowed to help people long before Tony Stark had given him it, before the billionaire had even known who he was. If he hadn’t needed it then, then he didn’t need it now. You didn’t need a suit to make a difference.

Hope bloomed to life in his chest, a warm sensation giving way to the fierce flame of determination. “Come on, Peter,” he encouraged himself straining against the crushing weight of warped metal and dense concrete, managing to force himself to a position where he could brace his feet against the ground and push up with his hands. “Come on, Spider-Man. Come on, Spider-Man. Come on, Spider-Man,” he chanted. Voice rising with the effort of freeing himself. His arms and legs shook, “Come on, Spider-Man!” he screamed with exertion as the rubble shifted, and he could finally breathe again.

Dust billowed into his vision, filling his lungs as he pulled in as much oxygen as he could, he coughed heavily as the wreckage settled, silence washing over him.

“Peter?” he heard a heart-wrenching scream. “Peter?!” loose rocks shifted precariously as someone scrabbled across the remains. “Please, Peter, answer me!”

He knew that voice.

“I’m here,” he called out softly. How could she have known where to find him? Ned had been the only person who’d known where he was going.

The lithe form of his friend stumbled out of the thick cloud of dust, and he barely had time to take in her appearance as she threw her arms around his neck. He steadied them against a nearby girder, as she clung to him desperately, shoulders shaking as she sniffled against his chest. Peter returned the hug with equal fervour, closing his eyes as tears of relief rolled down his face. He drew comfort from the familiar scent of vanilla that pervaded his senses. Burying his head in her soft, fiery waves, hardly registering how damp his hoodie was becoming from absorbing her tears.

“Oh my god, Peter. You’re here. You’re okay, you’re okay. I- I thou- thought when I got here and I saw the damage that I was too late. Too slow. That you were-“ her breath hitched and she convulsed against his chest, physically rebelling against the thought.

He squeezed her tightly against him, “I’m okay. For a moment, I- I- I really thought I wouldn’t be. That I wouldn’t-“ his voice trembled and he found that words failed him.

For a long moment they just basked in each other’s warmth, drawing comfort from their close proximity.

Peter broke the silence as his thoughts finally caught up with him. “How- how did you get here?” he asked in confusion. “How did you even know where I was? You were at homecoming, weren’t you?” he gently pushed her away from him so he could look at her properly, still clutching her shoulders, unwilling to lose contact completely. He blinked owlishly at what he saw. “Wha- is that? Huh? Are you… is that? What are you wearing?” he finally vocalised, feeling a little hysteric.

She giggled quietly, sounding slightly unbalanced herself. “We’ve both been so blind, honestly.” She grinned at him tiredly, “two of Midtown’s biggest losers running around New York in supersuits.” She tilted her head slightly, eyes glinting brightly with amusement and the remnants of tears, “weeeell, I ran. From what I’ve seen you’re more in the business of swinging.”

“You’re the Flash?!” he gasped, chocolate brown eyes blown wide.

“And you’re Spider-Man,” she shot back, raising an eyebrow. “To be honest I’m a little disappointed it took me so long to figure out,” she frowned lightly in annoyance at herself.

“You’re fast!”

Beatrice laughed softly at his bewildered expression, “just a bit.” She shook her head expression sobering. “We don’t have time for this right now. We can play twenty questions later, but I’m pretty sure we have more urgent matters to attend to. Something about a plane?”

Peter felt reality slam into him like a tonne of bricks, “oh crap, yeah. The bird-dude that tried to drop me in the lake, he’s stealing the weapons. Mr Stark has a plane full of tech heading up state and he’s going to target it.”

The redhead bit her lip, “that’s… very not good.” She met his gaze undaunted, “well, I’m fast. You’re weird-”

“Hey!” he protested indignantly.

“-let’s see if we can’t cage us a big bad birdie!”

Peter’s dark eyes hardened with resolve, “we can’t let him get those weapons.”

She nodded in agreement, “showtime?”

A small grin worked its way onto his face despite the gravity of the situation, “showtime.”

 

* * *

 

They’d been forced to split up, when they’d emerged from the dusty shell of the warehouse, Peter had immediately spotted the Vulture perched on a nearby billboard. Fortunately, he’d evidently decided the threat of Spider-Man had been sufficiently dealt with and had remained ignorant of their presence.

There simply hadn’t been time to formulate much of a plan, or any plan at all really, before Vulture had taken off. It was too risky for both of them to hitch a lift using Peter’s web, so they’d quickly agreed Peter would be the one to take him down and she’d keep an eye out and do damage control from the ground.

Beatrice swallowed thickly, trying to ignore the worry gnawing at her chest, watching the progression of the plane with eagle eyes. She hated not only knowing Peter was risking his life up there, but that there was so little she could to do to help. There was a security in fighting side by side, knowing you had each other’s backs, that she didn’t have the luxury of here.

She followed the path of the plane as closely as she could, easily keeping pace, her biggest obstacle was potentially losing sight of it. The retro-reflective panels seemed to be malfunctioning, making its hulking mass flicker in and out of existence.

Fear gripped her as bright orange lights seemed to flit into life at several points along the body of the plane. Fire, she realized. The plane was on fire.

Evidently Peter’s confrontation with the winged asshole hadn’t gone quite as smoothly as she’d hoped. Large parts of the reflective panelling had now completely failed, parts of the plane lighting up in bright blue, it looked like it was wreathed in lightning. Worse, it was losing altitude fast. For a gut-wrenching moment it looked like it was going to plough straight into the city, but it veered dangerously, just missing hitting any of the buildings.

It was going to hit the beach, Beatrice realised. She pushed herself to run even faster, pulling slightly ahead of the careening jet. She needed to make sure no one was in the impact zone. Sweeping the dark expanse of sand, she swiftly relocated any late-night stragglers, mainly amorous couples and tipsy friends.

The wing of the flaming wreck shaved off the top of the Coney Island Luna Park attraction. She braced herself, ready to take off and evacuate the park, before realising with relief it would already be closed for the evening.

Beatrice felt the ground tremble beneath her feet as the plane crashed into the sand, now a fiery inferno of warped metal and rattled crates. _Please be okay,_ she thought, _you better be okay._

Great clouds of billowing smoke screened her vision in a haze of charcoal and she struggled to avoid breathing it in. She ran through the wreckage desperately trying to locate Peter. She felt rage, white hot rage, scorching her insides at what she found. The Vulture was pinning him beneath him using one of his great metal talons, looming over his prone form, wings sparking ominously.

Static built in the air around her as the speedster snarled, electricity tingling across her skin. In a manic burst of movement, she bodily threw herself at the mass of metal, knocking him back towards the blaze. He recovered quickly, and she struggled fiercely as a huge metal wing roughly grasped her around her torso. The redhead tried her best to pry the metal feathers apart, grimacing as the sharp edges bit mercilessly into the soft flesh of her palms, slicing through her gloves. Her effort was in vain, as the Vulture reeled back throwing her through the air, oblivious to Peter’s panicked shouts, her back hitting the edge of a container with a hollow thunk as she rag-dolled to the ground, disoriented.

A blue glow caught her eye as she gasped greedily, trying to regain the air that she’d lost when the impact forced her lungs to violently empty.

She was dimly aware that Peter had managed to stumble to his feet, only to be backhanded by a wing as the Vulture focused past him in her direction. For a second, she thought he intended to finish her off, then she realised the soft blue glow was what had really captured his attention.

In a surprisingly graceful jump he landed atop the crate, which she could now see was filled to the brim with spare arc-reactors. He gripped the edge of it firmly in his talons, wings beginning to beat furiously to gain altitude.

Showers of sparks rained down on the sand as the turbines in his suit stuttered dangerously, and his wings convulsed in protest. She tried to push herself to her feet, scrambling for some way to intervene, there was no doubt in her mind that they were due an imminent explosion that the misguided man would not survive. Peter seemed to have reached the same conclusion, as he shouted loudly trying to catch the man’s attention.

The battered teen staggered forward, managing to attach a web to the container the Vulture was trying to carry away. Beatrice found the strength to push herself to her feet, ignoring the loud complaints of her body, as she grabbed Peter’s waist. Hoping she could add enough resistance to stop his ascension.

“Time to go home, kids,” the old man called to them, having discarded his helmet revealing a weathered face, stained with soot.

“We’re trying to save you!” Peter yelled urgently, struggling as they were slowly pulled along the sand, unable to gain enough purchase on the shifting surface.

He was too far gone, in a swift flick of his wings he severed the webbing, sending the two teens sprawling.

They watched in abject horror as the suit began to whine loudly and seize in the air, bright sparks of electricity crawling along the surface until the inevitable happened. The turbines shuttered, stopping completely, and the Vulture fell straight down towards the sharp shards of metal and the violent inferno below.

They both recoiled, Peter instinctively curling around Beatrice’s slightly smaller form. She felt sick as they sat up and saw the fire flare upward as he hit the ground.

She distantly heard Peter’s shouts of denial as she surged forward towards the flames, to find a mangled heap of broken machinery.

Beatrice grabbed the edge of a wing which had landed heavily on the man’s unconscious form, the heavy-duty material of her gloves protected her hands for the most part. Though she hissed slightly, as the heat seared the exposed wounds caused by her earlier struggles. Repressing a sob of pain, she struggled to lift the dense construct, she had managed to get it to waist height when she heard a sharp inhale of pain next to her and the burden lifted. Peter had caught up with her and was using his incredible strength to finish the task.

She shot him a brief grateful smile as they both lifted one of the man’s arms over each of their shoulders. The weight of the day’s events weighed heavily on her as they dragged him slowly out of harm’s way.

They both collapsed near him after lowering him into a clear patch of sand, pulling air into their searing lungs. Peter clutched his stomach as he coughed from smoke inhalation, simultaneously crawling over to Beatrice and grasping her hand to reassure himself she was safe. She squeezed the warm appendage similarly soothed, though she winced slightly as it irritated her rapidly healing injuries.

Clear up was going to be a bitch, she thought wryly, somehow finding the energy to stand, pulling Peter to his feet using their joined hands. Between them they gathered what was salvageable into a large pile. Peter took care of the heavy lifting with his enhanced strength, as Beatrice darted around quickly collecting loose bits of tech and the lighter packages.

Peter sent her off for one last rudimentary sweep to make sure they didn’t miss anything, as he scrawled a note on a scrap of paper he’d found. She returned within a few seconds, watching curiously as he wrote. She smiled brightly as he turned the paper towards her for approval, earning a nod.

The brunet teen used his web shooters to secure everything, including the Vulture, in place before they made themselves scarce. Making sure the note was prominently displayed for Stark’s people to find.

_FOUND Flying vulture guy. _   
_\- Spider-Man and the Flash_   
_P.S. Sorry about your plane._

 

* * *

 

The two teens were now happily perched atop the Coney Island Cyclone ride, the vantage point offering a good view of the aftermath.

When Peter had suggested it, Beatrice had been prepared to run herself up there, figuring if she could run on water then up a building shouldn’t be too much of a stretch. She’d gasped in surprise, and blushed hotly as she’d felt one of his strong arms encircle her waist, she’d instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck. The only warning he’d given her had been a whispered ‘hold on’, before they were whizzing through the air. She’d never admit that she had squealed a little in shock, but his knowing smile as he settled them both on a metal joist told her he wouldn’t forget.

They watched the flames burn merrily for a while, and witnessed the arrival of a number of black cars and emergency vehicles.

Peter broke the silence first, “sooooo… The Flash?” he prompted.

“It was the coma,” she replied readily, “well, the lightning actually. It messed with my cells, they move so fast that the speed is actually a by-product. It was a bit of a shock suddenly waking up with incredible abs believe me,” they both chuckled lightly. “The killer metabolism and crazy healing factor are pretty great bonuses though,” she said, pulling off her gloves to show him that the deep cuts had already healed into thin red lines. No sign left of the intense heat they’d been exposed to.

He gasped, grabbing her hands in worry,” crap, Beatrice. You sure you’re fine? These still look pretty bad.”

She laughed, “they’re a lot better than they were. Besides, I should be asking you that. I’m not the one who had a building dropped on me, or took a nosedive with a jet.” She raised an eyebrow sternly.

Peter scratched behind his ear a little sheepishly before replying, “I’m alright. A little battered maybe, but I’m pretty durable now.” He decided that now was a good a time as any to expand on his own history. “I went to the public science exhibit at Oscorp, got bitten by a radioactive spider. It made me pretty sick at first, but I woke up with like, my senses dialled up to eleven. It’s why I wear the headphones all the time but don’t always play music, stops me from getting sensory overload.” He paused for a moment, chuckling to himself. “I found out I was stronger too, I kept pulling door handles off, and I accidentally broke the sink trying to brush my teeth.” Beatrice threw her head back, laughing brightly at that mental image. “Made me more agile as well, the sink incident shocked me so much I jumped and found myself stuck to the ceiling.” Another wave of laughter seized her and she clutched her stomach as he smirked in amusement. “Gave myself a hell of a headache when i freaked out and fell off.”

“How many people know?” she asked curiously, wiping tears of mirth out of her eyes as she calmed down.

“You and Ned, and I guess Mr Stark. Ned was in my room when I came back from patrol a few weeks ago. What about you?” he returned.

“Just you and Cisco. I needed help when I first found out,” she admitted, voice soft with vulnerability. “I was really weirded out, and he was the only one who knew what my cells were doing and had access to equipment to help me. Or at least the only one I trusted enough.” She smiled fondly and Peter’s heart clenched. “When I decided I wanted to use my powers to help people, he insisted he was going to be my wingman. He might’ve even been more excited than I was. Said it was his ‘nerd dream’, announced he’d be the Oracle to my Batman. That’s what I was doing when I kept saying I was hanging out with Cisco, running around New York being an amateur crime fighter.”

Peter swallowed the lump in his throat, “I, er-, thought you and he were…”

“What?” she frowned in confusion as he trailed off.

“… a thing.” He finished awkwardly, shooting her a meaningful look.

He was a bit shocked when she barked out a laugh, “sorry. That’s just, no. No, no, no. Cisco’s great, he’s a brilliant friend, but I’m not interested in him like that. He’s never thought about me that way either, one of the first things he said to me was that Iris was hot.” Peter felt lighter than he had in ages as a weight lifted from him, maybe there was hope after all. “So, sorry, no. No double dates with you and Liz,” she tried to jest airily, but even to her it felt a little stilted.

Peter reeled, “me and Liz? Th- th- there’s no me and Liz. She, uh, asked me to homecoming, and I er- agreed.” He drew in a shaky breath, deciding that after everything he’d been through tonight, it was time he was finally brave. “But I was… I wanted to ask you actually… but I was scared…” he trailed off nervously.

Beatrice gasped in surprise, azure eyes shining with hope and confusion, “me? Why me?”

He scratched behind his ear again, shifting in place, before grabbing one of her hands gently to ground himself in the moment. “I, er-, well… truthfully. I’ve liked you for a while. But I was always too much of a coward. At first, I thought you’d never be interested and I’d ruin our friendship. After that, I was worried you liked Cisco. He seemed older, cooler, and really smart. You were so excited when you talked about him… I- I just wanted you to be happy.” He could feel heat suffusing his cheeks, and his heart beating faster, hardly able to bring himself to look at her.

The embarrassed teen was startled when he felt a soft hand on his cheek turning his face toward her, he was transfixed as he took in her bright smile, and glistening eyes. Even covered in dust and soot, with her hair in disarray, he still thought she was beautiful.

“I… I like you too, Peter. I have for quite a while. You’re… incredible,” she sighed tenderly, holding his gaze. “You are so smart, and so, so kind. You’re funny and sweet, and you have the biggest heart. You mean the world to me,” she assured, emphatically.

Peter suddenly surged forward, unable to restrain himself, he buried a slightly shaking hand in her hair as he grasped her waist. Gently pulling her towards him, and she melted into his embrace. One of her hands caressed his defined jaw-line as the other reached up to tangle in the soft curls at the nape of his neck. He tentatively leaned in, capturing her sweet pink lips in his own, a little unsure of himself. She reciprocated, sinking into the kiss, as her eyes fluttered closed. They fumbled a little with the unfamiliar action, but adapted quickly. It was fairly chaste, and when they pulled away, they kept their foreheads resting together, revelling in the moment. Both madly grinning as chocolate brown eyes met ocean blue.

 

* * *

 

The following day Peter and Beatrice strolled down the corridor, hands intertwined, unable to stop glancing at each other intermittently.

They’d decided not to divulge Beatrice’s super-secret to Ned just yet, and definitely not at school where his excitement might blow their cover. Instead Beatrice had organised a movie day for the coming weekend with the express purpose of coming clean.

Their mutual friend hadn’t known whether he was more enthused about their new couple status, or the fact he no longer had to avoid blabbing Peter’s secret to the redhead.

Both teens were content to bask in each other’s presence while listening to Ned’s melodramatic recounting of the previous evening’s events. However, the conversation was brought to an abrupt halt as the forlorn figure of Liz Allan rounded the corner. Beatrice had been more than a little stupefied when Peter had told her the Vulture’s true identity, and she was definitely glad they had managed to save him. A dad in prison was better than no dad at all, she of all people could attest to that.

She nudged Peter forward encouragingly, quickly surmising he wanted to apologise about the homecoming debacle. He flashed her a grateful smile, squeezing their joined hands, before jogging off down the corridor to catch up with Liz.

 

* * *

 

The web-slinging teen approached the bathroom somewhat hesitantly, he’d been in a decathlon meeting when he’d received the text from Happy directing him to this meeting place.

Peter entered the dreary room, catching sight of the broad shoulders of Stark’s head of security, the poor man looked very out of place. Even with his back to him he could easily read the tension in his figure.

The usually gruff man turned around as he heard Peter arrive, adopting a fond if decidedly restrained smile.

“Hey, Happy. What-? What are you doing here?” the teen asked, feeling mostly confused with a dash of suspicion.

“I really owe you one,” the burly man admitted, laughing good-naturedly. Peter wasn’t sure he’d ever seen him so relaxed and open. “I don’t know what I’d do without this job. I mean before I met Tony-“ his speech was swiftly cut off by the sound of a flushing toilet.

Happy closed his eyes and huffed, frustrated but vaguely amused. Peter shuffled back and forth with nervous energy as a student exited one of the cubicles. Eyeing them both in bewilderment, as he went about washing and drying his hands regardless of the tense silence.

Peter grimaced, waiting impatiently as the young teen left, “so, er-, how long have you been here?”

“Long enough for it to be awkward,” Happy acknowledged. “Boss wanted to see you, and your little buddy if possible. The Flash?” his lips twitched in amusement. “I guess I owe them one too, judging by your note.”

The brunet teen pointed incredulously at the block of cubicles, “is he in there too?”

“In the toilet? No. He’s upstate.”

“Upstate, like upstate-upstate?”

Happy nodded, “yeah. So… can you get in touch with your pal?”

Peter looked startled for a moment, having briefly forgotten the other part of the conversation. “I’ll, er-, text her. See what she says.” He pulled his phone out of his jeans pocket, pausing to glance at Happy, “does he already know who she is? I mean, he figured me out.”

Another nod, “’fraid so, kid. You know what he’s like, can’t leave a mystery unsolved. Also, since she saved your ass from a quick dip, he really couldn’t resist.”

“Oh…” Peter blinked, “I’ll just go, er-, fetch her then.”

“She goes here?” Happy asked, surprise colouring his question.

“Uh… yeah.”

Happy huffed in exasperation, “he could have just told me who she was. I swear, he just enjoys knowing stuff other people don’t.” He tugged at his lapels, straightening his blazer, “let’s go then.”

Peter led Happy to the library where Beatrice had stayed back to study, he shot her a quick text as they walked, forewarning her so she wouldn’t be too alarmed when he showed up with a huge guy in a suit and shades.

The older man was a little disconcerted when he was introduced to the slight redhead, but over a decade working for Tony Stark had ensured he was quite able to roll with the punches. Before long, they were all settled in a sleek black car and driving steadily upstate.

“Take a look,” Happy called back to the teens as the Avengers compound came into view. “Pretty impressive, huh? They just finished remodelling the whole thing.”

The young couple stared up in awe at the truly massive building. It was several stories high, and they side facing them was an intimidating construct of glass and steel that glistened in the bright autumn sunlight. A shiny stylised A mounted on one of it’s bright white walls ensure it couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than the home of the Avengers. They were slightly surprised when they took note of the building’s lush surroundings, the word ‘compound’ hardly conjured images of sleek architecture and verdant green grass.

Equally as impressive, was the airy foyer they were ushered into. They watched in excitement as the great glass windows afforded them a view of one of the many quinjets taking off.

“You don’t see that every day,” Happy smiled indulgently at them.

“Oh, there they are!” a jubilant voice echoed down the corridor. Beatrice flushed slightly as the confident figure of Tony Stark strolled up to them. Despite disagreeing with him about the Sokovian Accords, she still idolised the man. He was brilliant afterall, the things he had invented since dropping the weapons business had done a lit of good. “How was the ride up?”

“Good,” Happy supplied.

“Give me a minute with the kids,” Stark instructed.

Happy frowned, “seriously?”

“Yeah, I gotta talk to them.”

“I’ll be close behind.”

“How about a loose follow? All right? Boundaries are good.” the billionaire quipped.

Tony gently punched Peter in the shoulder, before pulling him into a one-armed hug, beginning to steer them further down the corridor. Signalling for Beatrice to walk beside them.

“Sorry, I took your suit,” the older man addressed Peter. Beatrice grimaced, she’d discussed recent events with Peter in detail after yesterday’s revelations. She honestly thought the man had dealt with the whole situation poorly, but she didn’t feel it was her place to comment upon it, this was a matter best kept between the two of them. Tony continued, “you had it coming. Actually, it turns out it was exactly the sort of tough love moment that you needed, right? To urge you on, right? Wouldn’t you think? Don’t you think?” Peter looked a little overwhelmed as he stammered his agreement. “Let’s just say it was,” the dark-haired man sighed happily.

“Mr Stark, I really-“ Peter began, but was cut off as Tony continued, clearly on a roll.

“You screwed the pooch hard, big time. But then you did the right thing, along with our favourite roadrunner over here.” Tony gestured to the redhead. “Took the dog to the free clinic, raised the hybrid puppies…” The two teens exchanged disbelieving looks. “All right, not my best analogy. I was wrong about you. I think, with a little mentoring, you both could be real assets to the team.” He concluded as they moved through a set of sliding glass doors.

Beatrice almost stopped in her tracks due to her surprise, a little dazed by the unexpected proposition.

“To the- To the team?” Peter stuttered, sounding just about as baffled as she felt.

Tony shrugged nonchalantly, “Yeah, anyway. There’re about fifty reporters behind that door. Real ones, not bloggers.” Beatrice frowned, a little insulted on Iris’ behalf. The eccentric man tapped at the device on his wrist twice, causing the slate gray wall in front of them to smoothly slide open. Two suits rose out of the floor, the metallic material forming both of them glinting in the soft white lights. Peter’s suit was quite similar to his current one, the bright blue mirrored by a dark navy. Gold accents ran along the design, matching those in Beatrice’s own new suit. She admired the dark maroon colour, so similar to her current leather get-up. The cowl still followed the same design, running along her cheekbones, concealing her identity without being stifling. The starkest difference was the vivid white he’d used to fill the central circle of the emblem, contrasting beautifully against the shimmering gold of the lightning bolt.

The two teens gaped in shock, hands now intertwined as they reached for each other for moral support.

Tony rambled on heedlessly, “when you’re ready, why don’t you both try these on? And I’ll introduce the world to the newest official members of the Avengers: Spider-Man and The Flash.”

Peter laughed sceptically, they wandered forward thoroughly intrigued, still struggling to articulate anything resembling English.

The billionaire smiled triumphantly, “yeah, give them a look.” He nodded in pride. “After the press conference, Happy will show you to your new rooms, your new quarters. You’ll be neighbours, since apparently, you’re a bit of a duo now. I think you’re between Vision? Vision.”

“Yeah, Vision’s not big on doors.” Happy volunteered.

“It’s fun!”

“Or walls,” the head of security continued sounding vaguely traumatised.

“You’ll fit right in,” Tony grinned, optimistic.

Beatrice and Peter exchanged a meaningful look, reaching a mutual decision.

The taller teen addressed his mentor, “thank you, Mr Stark, but I think we’re good.”

“Yeah, we’re good,” the redhead agreed.

The usually unflappable billionaire suddenly looked ruffled, “you’re good? Both of you? Good-? How are you good?”

“Well, I mean, I’d rather just stay on the ground for a while.”

Grinning, Beatrice squeezed his hand in support, “we’ll keep it low-ley I think, for the time being.”

“Friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man,” Peter reminded Tony, “and The Flash too now.” He smiled down at his girlfriend, dark eyes warm. “Somebody’s got to look out for the little guy, right?”

“And we do it so well,” Beatrice pitched in with an amused smirk.

Tony removed his sunglasses, staring at them both seriously. “You’re turning me down? You better think about this. Look at those,” he pointed back at the suits, “look at me. Last chance. Yes or no?” His eyes darted between them, face uncharacteristically stern, as if trying to impress upon them the full gravity of this decision.

“No.” they chorused, resolute.

“Okay,” Stark nodded, still reeling. “It’s a kind of Springsteen-y, working class hero vibe that I dig.” He decided. “Happy will, uh-, take you home, yeah?” he directed the latter part towards the aforementioned driver.

Happy nodded at his boss, before addressing the kids, “mind waiting in the car? I need a minute.”

The teens nodded, Peter shook Tony’s hand thanking him.

“Yes, Mr Parker, very well.”

Beatrice reached over to shake his hand next, “thank you, Mr Stark. We really appreciated the offer, it was very kind. Thanks for trusting me… us.” She amended, smiling warmly at him.

He grinned in return, “no problem, Ms Allen. You’ve both proven yourselves, I think. Also, keep him out of trouble,” he winked conspiratorially.

The redhead threw her head back, laughing, blue eyes twinkling merrily. “Now that’s a pie crust promise,” she quoted, “easily made, easily broken. I’m pretty sure he’s a trouble magnet.”

“Hey!” Peter exclaimed, taking exception to her comment. She turned around mollifying him with a quick peck on cheek, causing him to blush heavily as a goofy smile stretched across his face. “See you around,” he told Tony as the both waved and wandered back down the hallway.

Suddenly, the taller teen paused, pulling Beatrice to a stop as he whirled around. “That was a test, right?” Peter queried, gesturing vaguely towards the wall the suits were now hidden behind, and the door the reporters were supposed to have been through. “There’s, uh, no one back there?”

The other teen rolled her eyes affectionately, she was pretty damn sure it was a genuine offer. Tony Stark didn’t strike her as the kind of man to set up a test like that.

Peter stared up at the genius in question, as he nodded in affirmation. “Yes, you both passed. All right, skedaddle there young buck, and take your lady friend with you,” he waved them off.

Peter grinned, “thank you, Mr Stark. Thank you.” They turned back, continuing their way down the corridor, chatting amicably and basking in the moment. Looking forward to whatever life would bring them next.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, got a bit reference heavy when Beatrice and Peter finally figured out they were super buddies, couldn't help myself, sorry. Especially the Incredibles one, that film was my jam as a kid.


End file.
